Ashes of the Raven
by Egypt
Summary: Someone wants Bruce Wayne dead. The problem is, he has no idea. He doesn't even know how close they have gotten. Can he figure it out in time? And when it all comes to a head, will he find something in the ashes worth saving?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a JP done over six months between myself and my friend Wallaby. It was done for a game he owned called Gotham's Dark Knights. Batman and all related characters are copyrighted to DC Comics. Any infringement on said copyright is wholly unintentional. I am not being paid for this, so please for the love of Pete keep the lawyers out of it. Now that's out of the way, on with the story.

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt mailto:**** and ****Wallaby mailto:**

**Chapter 1**

Mamushi Keishi sat on her couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, and stared down at the proposal before her. It was all starting to make sense now. It had taken 2 days and more reading than she felt was necessary but it was all making sense now. Genuteck was proposing a merger with Wayne Industries but the way they had it written meant that they would have primary control of all their assets. That would not have been so bad, if it were not for the fact that they were also demanding the rights to anything created by them while under the Wayne Industries merger. This indicated that they did not plan on making this a permanent thing. This wasn't right, in fact it reeked of Corporate Espionage.

The 26 year old Japanese woman brushed a strand of waist length black hair over her shoulder as she picked up another piece of paper from the couch and added it to the others, reading it again for the third time in less than an hour. She had to make sure that she understood this correctly, that she knew what to say when she explained it all to Bruce in the morning. She had to understand it just as well, if not better than those who wrote it. The meeting was at eleven am the next morning and she would have to make sure that Mr. Wayne knew everything he needed to before that meeting started.

The ring of the telephone brought her attention from her papers. She looked over at the phone and gave a slight frown. Who could that be? It was too late for the office to be calling, and she was pretty sure that Mr. Wayne was at home in bed by now. Still, if it was him and she didn't answer it he would not be happy.

It rang again and she sighed in frustration. Piling the files and papers on the cushion next to her she stood to her full 5'3" height and walked towards the phone that sat on the kitchen counter. As she walked she arched her back, hearing a slight pop as her body righted itself after having been in the slumped position for so long.

She reached the phone and took a second to collect herself, giving it another two rings before she picked it up and answered with a calm, almost angelic voice.

"Hello?"

"How close are you?" the voice on the other end brought her demure act to an end almost immediately. Her face hardened and her chocolate brown eyes narrowed.

"Not close enough," she snapped back, "And if you keep calling me I never will be. You could ruin everything if you keep this up."

"It's taking too long," came the reply, anger and agitation in the voice, "He should have been dead months ago. It never takes you this long to do a job."

"This one is different," she hissed back, agitation slipping into her voice but only because she allowed it, "Too careful. If you wanted it quick you should have sent another. I told you in the beginning this would be harder than the others, take longer. You said it was not a problem and now you threaten to destroy it all with your impatience."

"I have been patient..." the voice replied.

"No," she snapped, turning slightly as she spoke into the receiver, "You haven't. You've called me 3 times in a month. That is not patience. I told you the job would be done and it will be done. Set back, relax and wait."

With that she hung up the phone, her brow creasing as she scowled down at the contraption. Her attention returned to the papers on the couch and her demure exterior slid into place again. She had lost her interest in the papers though, and was doubtful she would get it back anytime soon. So, she walked back to the couch and gathered them up, putting them back together as they should be and returning them to her briefcase. She then went to the kitchen and retrieved a coffee cup from the cupboard. However, instead of filling it with coffee she filled it with a sweet herbal mint tea. Putting nothing in it, she moved with her now warm cup across the living room floor, taking up her position on the couch again.

She lounged on the couch and picked up the remote, taking a moment to pull the pair of sweat shorts back down a bit before flicking on the TV and settling in to watch some late night TV. She was careful not to spill any of her tea on her tight t-shirt as she slumped on the couch, her bare feet resting on the black wooden coffee table in the center of the room. She flipped through the channels for a bit before she found the Jay Leno show and decided that would do. Setting the remote on the futon-like couch next to her she sat back to enjoy her tea and perhaps a little entertainment before she turned in for the night. The papers would still be there in the morning...and she was sure that she had enough information for Mr. Wayne before he had to deal with the share holders. For now, it was just her, a cup of tea and the television. Everything else could wait.

--

Mamushi woke up at about 5:00 AM the next morning, which was about usual for her. She spent the first hour working on her training. Going through her moves, centering herself and making sure that her body did not get too accustomed to not using its martial arts training. Because of the difficulty of the mark on this job she had been forced to hide her 'abilities' and play the demure, damsel in distress type. She couldn't say that she particularly hated the part, but she wasn't exactly fond of it either. It meant that she had to let others deal with certain things that she was used to doing herself. She had been playing the part for a year now and she had found that lately she had been keeping that persona up most of the time. It was only in instances like last night that she let it drop. She wasn't sure why that was, but even as she ran through her exercises her features were calm and her mental state gentle. She was not loosing her aggression, it just seemed to be taking a back seat to the person she had 'become'.

Once she was finished with her exercises she took a shower, and then cooked herself a light breakfast. She was just putting the dishes in the dishwasher when the phone rang. Her eyebrows creased as she stared at it for a moment. It was 6:30 by now, and the office didn't open until 9:00. The phone call from last night came to mind and she frowned, but still she walked over and picked up the receiver, putting a smile on her face as she answered it.

"Hello?" her voice was soft, and devoid of the apprehension that she was feeling.

"Mamushi," the voice on the other end hissed, "We need to talk."

Turned out that the apprehension was well deserved. The frown once again appeared, this time deeper and accompanied by a darkness in her eyes.

"So talk," she hissed back.

"Not like this," he replied, "At the coffee shop around the corner, ten minutes."

With that the caller hung up and Mamushi stood there with that same frown etched into her features. This was insane, more than that it was dangerous. These idiots and their impatience could ruin everything...and throw a year's worth of work down the drain. Yet, she knew that if she didn't meet him that it would be bad news for her. So, giving a growl of frustration she hung up the phone and snatched her purse from the chair next to the door on her way out.

--

Alfred Pennyworth went about the morning routine of cleaning and polishing the home of his employer, the man known to the world as multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Mr. Wayne was known by many different guises. He was an aloof adventurer, traveling the world in search of rare and priceless items to add to his impressive, museum quality collection. He was a world renowned industrialist whose holding including everything from software to food products to weapon systems, though the core of his business was as his father had founded it: medical supplies and pharmaceuticals. Socially, Bruce was known to the world as a dilettante, patron of the arts, playboy, and Gotham City's most eligible bachelor.

Alfred, however, remembered him best as the brave child desperately trying to come to grips with the sudden and brutal loss of his parents. At the age of eight, Bruce had witnessed his parents death at the hands of a ruthless gunman. The event scarred the young boy, and forever changed his life. Alfred took the role of Bruce's guardian, raising him in the absence of any other family. Alfred, and only a handful of other individuals, knew him not only as Bruce Wayne but also as the legendary Batman.

As Alfred puttered around the mansion, he couldn't help but worry about the man who had once been his ward. Bruce had activated the signal to let Alfred know he wouldn't be making his normal appointments. Though that was all that the signal itself meant, Alfred was well able to read more into the situation. He feared the Batman was once again going into action. While he had the greatest confidence in Bruce, his abilities, his technology, and his choice in compatriots, Alfred could not help but worry when Bruce was away.

A quick check of Mr. Wayne's schedule showed he was due in a meeting today with his personal secretary, Miss Mamushi Keishi. Alfred did not know a lot about the young lady, but she was competent and honest, and seemed to take her role very seriously. He found he rather liked her, even if she did seem a bit distant. With a sigh, he decided he needed to inform her that Mr. Wayne would not be at the meeting. He dialed the number to her cell phone and waited for the young lady to pick up.

Mamushi had just started down the hall when her cell phone rang. She fished the device out of her purse and looked at the caller ID. 'Bruce Home'. She heaved a sigh and shook her head. How did she KNOW he was going to do this to her?

"Hello," she answered, that smile slipping onto her face and into her voice.

She knew what this was about...and it annoyed her to no end.

"Good morning, Miss Keishi," Alfred greeted her in his most proper voice. He hated calling her early, and knew she could only expect bad news from such a call. "I do hope I haven't woken you by calling so early. Might I enquire how you are feeling this morning?"

I knew it. Mamushi thought with a mental sigh, stopping to lean up against the wall in the hallway.

"You didn't wake me Alfred," she said softly, smiling at his constant concern about such things, "And at the moment I am feeling quite well, thank you."

She leaned her head back up against the wall and pulled her left foot up so that it was flat against the wall as well.

"He isn't going to make it today...is he?" she asked with a heavy sigh.

Alfred's sensibilities revolted at having to disappoint her yet again. If he could explain to her why Bruce was absent so much, she might better understand, but of course that was out of the question.

"I am so sorry to do this, Miss, but I am afraid I must confirm your suspicions. He has, once again, been unavoidably detained. Mr. Fox is on his way out now to assist with the details, but I fear he may not be there on time." He paused briefly, then continued, "If there were any way I could assist you, please don't hesitate to ask."

Mamushi closed her eyes and heaved another sigh. This meant that SHE would have to give the board the decision FOR Bruce. She hated doing that. They all looked at her like she was a moron who didn't belong there. It drove her nuts, made her want to gut them all just for the hell of it.

"Unfortunately," she said softly, "Aside from finding Bruce and dragging his sorry ass back from wherever he has seen fit to seclude himself...there is nothing that you can do."

These were the times when she wanted to finish her job and just get it over with. She hated being put through this, treated like she was just a stand in.

"How long is he going to be gone this time?" she asked, frustration leaking into her voice.

It was not an act, not really. It was how someone in her situation would react. It was all part of the facade.

"I'm sorry, Miss, it is impossible to tell. He may be detained for a week or more, or, possibly, he may actually show up at the last minute. I wish I could give you a better answer, but frankly, my hands are tied."

The elder gentlemen was truly pained at having to ask Miss Keishi to stand in for Bruce.

"You do realize, Miss, that if he did not think you were capable of filling this role, he would not have you doing it, correct?" he asked, trying to bolster her spirits.

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Alfred," she said with a frown, "This is his company, not mine. Do you have any idea how they look at me when I walk into that room to speak for Bruce? And I am sure that his constant absence is not helping their view of him either."

She groaned and smacked her head against the wall behind her.

"Miss," Alfred said in a firm voice, "if anybody ever treats you in a way that is anything less than dignified and professional, let myself or Master Bruce know! Such conduct will not be tolerated, not by any in his employ, nor by those he does business with. Of that, you can be assured!"

Mamushi squeezed her eyes closed and frowned. Yeah, she thought to herself, Like I'm gonna tattle on some middle aged moron who thinks I would be of better use in the bedroom. Of course, she didn't say any of that. No, that was not the part she was playing...that was Viper, not Mamushi.

He took a brief moment to collect himself. "Mr. Wayne runs a virtual empire, Miss Keishi. His attention cannot always be where others would like it to be. Granted, his... diversions can be a little excessive, but he has the right people in the right places to make this empire work. You are proof of that, and have never disappointed him thus far. If he feared you would, you would not be there."

Alfred straightened out his vest, then continued. "I apologize, Miss Keishi, it is not my place to lecture you."

"It's all right, Alfred," she said with a sigh, "I understand what your saying, and I appreciate what your trying to do. But so help me, if he is not on that plane when it leaves tomorrow I am going to hunt him down and when I find him I'm going to tie him to that damned desk of his. Either that or tag him so I can find him when he is needed."

True, it was not a perfect threat but she was not supposed to be perfect. It got the point across though...she hoped.

Alfred's face lit with a smile at the thought, and while he cleared his throat to avoid a chuckle, the mirth managed to show through in his voice. "Miss Keishi, if you can figure out a way to do that, I would be most indebted to you."

He wiped a happy tear from his eye. "Miss Keishi, unfortunately I have matters to attend to, and I'm sure you do as well. If there is nothing else I can do for you...?"

At the tone of Alfred's voice Mamushi couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The man seemed to be genuine in every respect, something that Mamushi had not found often.

"I understand," she said with a sigh, "When you talk to Bruce, tell him that he owes me for this one. Chances are that I'm about to save his company a major headache."

She wasn't gloating, she was simply being honest. Bruce was so busy that he never would have noticed the wording in that proposal. She was willing to bet he hadn't even read it.

Alfred bowed slightly as he spoke into the phone, apparently indifferent to the fact that Miss Keishi could not see the gesture. "I will tell him that very thing, Miss, when next I see him. On behalf of Mr. Wayne and myself, I thank you for the service you render us. Yours is a rare dedication."

He bowed again, "A good morning to you, then, Miss Keishi, and may the rest of your day bring more pleasant news than I was able."

I doubt it, she thought, suddenly remembering the meeting she was supposed to be at right now.

"Thank you Alfred," she said with a slight smile, "And the same to you as well."

She hung up the phone, a sigh slipping past her lips as something that Alfred said played over again in her head. Yours is a rare dedication.' If only he knew the truth, he may not be so fond of her. But he didn't, and he seemed to like her. Why was that? No one had ever liked her, they had only lusted after her. It was strange to find someone who treated her like a real person. And yet, she had noticed that Bruce treated her the same way...when he was around. It almost made her want to rethink her view on the world. Almost. The actions of two people were not enough to change a life long philosophy though.

Heaving another sigh she slipped the cell phone back into her purse and continued down the hall. She had a meeting with an old 'friend' to attend.

Alfred returned the phone to its cradle, reviewing the image of Bruce chained to a desk with Miss Keishi at his side. There could be a worse fate...


	2. Chapter 2

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt mailto:**** and ****Wallaby mailto:**

**Chapter 2**

Several minutes later Mamushi walked into Mother's Coffee Shop, her usual demure exterior perfectly in place. Her chocolate brown eyes scanned the room, taking only a moment to find what she sought. In the far corner, at a solitary table, sat a young Japanese man. He was dressed in jeans and a button down the front shirt, his hair shoulder length and brushed back from his deep brown eyes. He gave a warm smile as she entered, standing to his full 5'6" height as she made her way over to him.

"Mamushi." He said warmly as he gave her a soft peck on her cheek.

"Michael." She replied, allowing the kiss and even casting her eyes down as if slightly embarrassed by it.

_How are you?_ He asked in their native language as he motioned for her to join him before he reclaimed his seat.

_Good._ She replied in the same language as she took the offered seat. _And you?_

_Doing well._ He replied as he retrieved his coffee cup from the table and took a sip.

Once the cup left his lips his eyes darkened and his voice took on a serious tone. His expression remained light and pleasant, but Mamushi could tell that it was time to get down to business.

_Wish I could say the same for you._ He said softly.

Mamushi's eyes flashed, but it was the only outward reaction to his words. As with Michael, Mamushi's features remained calm and pleasant but her voice was just as serious as his.

_Did they send you here to motivate me?_ She asked, her words sharp despite the smile with which she spoke them.

_They didn't send me._ He replied. _I came on my own._

The words surprised her, but only her eyes revealed that. Michael never did anything on his own. He was merely a puppet. He always had been, and Mamushi believed that he always would be. He always did what he was told, never questioned and never altered from his prescribed course. Yes, it was true that he probably had opinions and the like but he never expressed them, preferring to simply do as he was told. So the fact that he had come to see her without being told to do so was a strange concept for her.

_Ok._ She said softly. _Say I believe you. Why?_

He gave her another gentle smile, his brown eyes softening slightly as they met hers.

_Because even Pinocchio had feelings._

Mamushi blinked, her control over her features slipping for a few moments to reveal the surprise at his words. She regained control a few seconds later, but the slip was enough for Michael to see how his words had effected her. It brought a bit of a smile to his eyes, and a note of amusement to his voice as he spoke again.

_I know what you think of me, Mamushi. I know how everyone thinks of me. The difference between me and other puppets is that my strings only look like they're attached._

She stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say in reply to his words. He was a saiko komon, one of the highest members, and it now became apparent to her how he had gotten so far. He had played the puppet, played the fool, and allowed people to think as they chose. That had gotten him to where he was.

_Ok._ She said with a nod. _Why are you here?_

_I came to warn you._ He answered, his eyes urgent. _Your actions of late have gotten them worried. They think you've been influenced or paid off. Their getting nervous...and you know what happens when they get nervous._

This time Mamushi frowned, her features retaining the expression for far longer than she had intended.

_You know better._ She answered. _At least I hope you do._

She had known Michael for over six years, had even taken him as a lover at one time. He knew her as well as she had allowed anyone to know her. He was as close as she had ever come to having a friend.

_Of course._ He said with a soft smile. _But I'm not the one in charge._

Mamushi heaved a sigh, her eyes falling to focus on her clasped hands that rested on the tabletop. She could tell that he wanted an explanation, but she was unaccustomed to giving one. And yet, she felt compelled to explain herself to him. Why, she did not know.

_He's different._ She said finally, her voice taking on a more hushed tone. _Much harder than any other. He's almost too careful. I've played my part, done what was expected, and I still seem to be no closer to him than I was the day I started. Yes, I know more about him and have gained a measure of his trust but it is not enough. He does not let me close enough._

Michael marveled at Mamushi's talent. Even as she explained something that seemed to frustrate her greatly she managed to remain calm. Her voice was level and even, making it seem as if they were having a normal conversation. Someone of such talent was rare, and he could now understand why she had become as good as she had. Yet, even with her talent he could tell that she was frustrated...and worried. He could only guess that she thought she was loosing her touch. She was the best there was, able to take down in days people that others had not been able to take down in months. He could understand how she felt.

_It's alright._ He said softly, reaching across the table and resting his hand on hers. _We all have that one that tests us, makes us question ourselves. In the end it is all just a matter of time._

_Unfortunately time is not something I have an abundance of._ She answered.

_I know._ He said as he drained his coffee and stood up.

He stepped over to her, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. She smiled slightly as he did, again casting her eyes down as if slightly embarrassed by the action.

_I'll be in touch._ He whispered in her ear before standing up and making his way to the door.

She sat there for several more moments, thinking over what he had said. Finally she got to her feet and left the coffee shop as well. It was a little past 7:00 AM and she had a meeting to prepare for.

--

Mamushi Keishi stood at the head of the conference table, a sickeningly sweet smile slowly slipping across her lips as her eyes hardened. Anyone who knew her (which was very few) knew to run the other direction when she got that look. Unfortunately for these men, they didn't know any better. They were about to learn.

Mamushi had arrived at the office at her usual 8:45 and then spent the next two hours hoping and praying that Bruce would arrive in time. When she could delay no longer she took his place in the meeting, just like she always did. The meeting had gone as usual, the men talking amongst themselves and seemingly ignoring her. When she had risen to debate the Genutek issue they had told her that her opinion was not wanted or needed. Now she would put them in their place.

"I am Mr. Wayne's personal assistant." Her voice was low and void of all emotion. "That means that when he is away I speak for him. Talking to me is like talking to him. My job is to make sure that the best interests of Mr. Wayne AND Wayne Industries is represented. It is for that reason and that reason alone that I stand before you now and inform you that the merger with Genutek is denied."

There was an outburst of noise, everyone talking at once and all upset and outraged at her statement. She caught a few of the comments but ignored them all, simply standing there as the expression on her face changed. Her features became blank, her eyes dark and harder then should have been possible. It was the expression that the Viper always wore so well.

She stared at the men before her, her eyes meeting the angry gaze of several of the men. As she did the anger left their features and they seemed to slink down slightly in their chairs. Their silence drew the attention of the others and soon the noise died away. The reaction pleased Viper, made her feel powerful and in control. Control was good.

Once they had all settled down she spoke again. This time her voice could have frozen water.

"Did any of you read the proposal?" She asked.

There was a soft murmur around the room, each man glancing at the other and shrugging slightly. They had read it, just not very well. Not nearly as well as she had. Idiots.

"In Article 5 Section 3 Subsection 32 it states that all development undertaken by Genutek during the merger will remain the sole property of Genutek." She said confidently. "In Article 37 Section 12 Subsection 7 it states that all Genutek's assets will remain in their control and that Wayne Industries will have no access to them."

She paused as the room suddenly filled with the sounds of rustling papers. Everyone had the proposal open and were verifying her words. After a few moments several of the men had began to look a little green.

"Shall I go on?" She asked, her voice taking on a smug edge.

"I do not believe that will be necessary Miss Keishi." The man at the other end of the table said with a slight nod.

She gave a nod of her head and reclaimed her seat, or rather Bruce's seat.

"I believe it is time to vote." The man said, turning his attention to the others. "All those in favor of the merger?"

The room fell silent, all of the occupants staring at each other as if they expected at least one of them to speak up. No one did.

"All those opposed?"

A chorus of 'Nay's filled the room. Viper almost breathed a sigh of relief...almost. Instead she simply sat there, her face unemotional and her body stiff.

The rest of the meeting passed without incident, and the whole time Mamushi didn't move, didn't speak. She was trying to regain control, trying to push the killer in her back down. It wasn't until just as the meeting was adjourning that she succeeded. She leaned forward and gathered her papers, arranging them neatly and replacing them into the file folder. As she stood to leave one of the men approached her. She turned cold, expression less eyes on him and he cowered slightly but recovered quickly.

"Thank you." He said softly. "I think that it is safe to say that we all missed the details that were important."

"Then perhaps you should all pay more attention to the issues at hand rather than making bedroom eyes at every skirt that walks by."

Her voice was sharp and hostile, making the man before her wince and blush. She didn't care. Without another word she left the room, not caring at that moment who had heard her words or how they felt about them.


	3. Chapter 3

-1**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt**** and ****Wallaby**

**Chapter 3**

Viper had gone out with one thing in mind and one thing only. She had found it, but it had not been what she had really wanted. She now stood in the doorway of the hotel room and stared at the man who now lay motionless on the bed. He was not dead, simply sleeping. Although, at this point she could not deny the fact that she had the itch to kill him. She had found him at a nightclub, and after playing the usual games had decided that he may be able to give her what she wanted. It turned out that he was not, and now she was in an even more sour mood than before.

She had been trained in such a way that sex was not enjoyable to her. It was simply a part of the job, and yet every now and then her body craved it. She would indulge in the act outside of work, but she found it almost impossible to feel anything from the act. Through chance she had found that rough sex pleased her more than the usual, but that was only because she was able to 'feel' something from the act. Pain was at least something and it was a feeling that she had become very familiar with over the years. The problem was that it was not always as satisfying as she expected.

This was one of those instances. The man she had chosen had only been interested in his own pleasure, but he had gladly let her take control. However, he had been reluctant to give her what she wanted, choosing instead to be as tame as possible. About halfway through she gave up trying. Once he had drifted off to sleep she had slipped from the bed and taken a shower. Now she made her exit, slipping silently from the room and making her way out of the hotel. The room was paid for the night so she would simply allow the man to stay there. If she woke him she was afraid she would kill him.

As she walked down the street she randomly considered going to some out of the way bar and picking a fight. It had been over a year since she had killed, and the satisfaction of doing just that was unbeatable. It was the only thing that could 'scratch the itch' that she had right now. However, doing such a thing would most definitely cause problems with her current job. So, she pushed the thought away, choosing instead to go home. Her mood would continue to sour, but once she got home she would meditate and hopefully that would alleviate her mood.

Bruce was glad to be home. Not that he minded being the Batman; it was probably more his life than was being Bruce Wayne, but for the Batman to remain effective, Wayne Enterprises had to be strong. While the duties of Bruce Wayne were often trivial and boring by his standards, his presence was necessary. And, he had to admit, the fringe benefits of being arguably the richest man in the world were not that hard to live with, for brief periods of time.

He had felt bad about forcing Mamushi to stand in for him. Not because he doubted her ability to do so. She was very capable, and extremely adaptable. Everything he had asked of her she had managed, without complaint and with a very steep learning curve. She was very motivated, and he appreciated that. Sometimes it almost worried him that she was so efficient, but he dismissed that. Not everything was a plot out to get him.

He settled himself behind the wheel of his Viper. It was a car he had not gotten to drive very much, and while it didn't match what he drove as Batman, he liked it. Taking it out of the garage, he drove it out into the city, enjoying its handling and acceleration in everyday traffic, but the experience quickly got old. There just wasn't much of an adrenaline rush to this when you patrolled the city as the Dark Knight. Sighing to himself, he maneuvered the car to his destination. He wanted to tell Mamushi why he couldn't have been there, but he couldn't. The next best thing was an apology. A phone call would get the message across, but was hardly what she deserved.

He couldn't tell her why he had been reported as a no-show. He couldn't tell her about the eight-year-old girl that had been kidnapped, or about the pictures that had been found with the kidnappers of other little girls. He couldn't tell her about the sale of those little girls once the bastards had finished with them, or about how their innocence had been ripped away and sold for profit. He could not tell her that he was not sure which were better off, the survivors, or the ones that didn't have to live with the memories anymore.

Bruce noticed the streets flying past and looked down at the speedometer: he was doing 135 MPH. He shook his head as he down shifted, forcing the car back to a more reasonable speed. He used the winding down of the engine as a focus to purge the details of the case from the fore of his mind. Not only did he not need them right now, he definitely didn't need the emotions that went with them. By the time the car was back down to 50, his mind was refocused on his task for the evening. In a short period of time, he arrived at Mamushi's apartment.

He parked the car and made his way to the front gate. He looked the place over, automatically assessing how he would surmount its security and where not only he would hide, but where he would expect others. It wasn't quite as bad as one might expect, and Mamushi's was one of the less accessible. He wondered if she was aware of that.

Having completed his surveillance, he pressed the buzzer to her apartment. Though it seemed out of place for the playboy billionaire, he was not at all perturbed about having to wait. He spent his time looking at the surrounding neighborhood, and listening for any untoward sounds.

Her mood had slowly gotten worse as she walked, probably because she had nothing but her thoughts to keep her company and her thoughts were not pleasant. Still, she managed to keep a stoic expression on her face even as she completely ignored those she passed. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she turned the corner to her apartment building. Almost. The only reason she didn't was the man standing at the gate. She could tell, even from this distance, who it was. The last person she wanted to see tonight.

She groaned deep in her chest and allowed the frown to crease her features for a slight moment before schooling her expression and removing all hints of emotion. She didn't even bother to put a smile on her face. Hiding her anger was the best she could do at the moment, anything more was pushing it.

For a moment she considered turning around and simply ignoring the fact that he was there, but something pushed her forward. So she went, stoic expression in place and movements graceful as she approached him.

"Mr. Wayne." She said by way of greeting.

Bruce looked Mamushi briefly up and down with just a casual nod of his head. A very practiced gesture that most other people would never have caught. If anything, it would be presumed that the philandering Bruce Wayne was just checking out his next possible conquest. He did it without even thinking about it anymore.

Mamushi seemed tense. Her body language hid any feeling she might have had, and while she was generally neutral, this wasn't quite the same. If anything, her voice sounded a little tired, though he wasn't sure that was right, either. He went on alert, wondering if she had had a bad time of it, either at the meeting or later.

"Mr. Wayne?" He queried with a smile, trying to lighten her mood, or failing that, at least get some sort of reaction. "I thought we had gotten past such formalities, or should I be calling you Ms. Keishei now?"

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes studying his face. That familiar flash of heat ran through her and as soon as she felt it she turned away, her eyes moving to focus on the gate as she retrieved her keys. It was a reaction that still puzzled her. Why was it that every time she looked at him she felt her temperature rise. It was even worse when he touched her, like her skin had been set ablaze. She knew desire when she felt it, but she had never felt it like this. Usually the feel of a man's touch made her sick to her stomach so she avoided it as much as possible, and yet with Bruce she found herself craving his touch at times. She suddenly felt this was one of those times, but she pushed the thought away and concentrated on opening the gate.

"To what do I owe the pleasure...Bruce?" She asked as she unlocked the gate, her voice as stoic as her features.

Bruce blinked, not sure what to make of her response. There was a connection when their eyes locked; he could see it in her. She was a lovely lady, and incredibly efficient; in another lifetime, he might have pursued her. The thought was still there, but it would be a lie. He couldn't give her what he wanted to, and he wasn't sure she would be the sort to accept less.

"I owe you an apology, Mamushi. Actually, I owe you more apologies than I can remember, and that is unacceptable. I am sorry I placed you in the position I did this morning. The time I gave you was inadequate to prepare, and the reasons, well, they don't matter." He lied.

He had become accustomed to lying, and whether it was for good or ill, he thought himself quite accomplished at it. There were those who could see through his lies, which either meant he was not as good as he thought, or they knew him too well. Probably a bit of both.

"If I can, I would like the opportunity to make it up to you. You're certainly due a raise, but monetary compensation is not adequate for the services you provide Wayne Enterprises. Is there anything in my power that I can do for you?"

She was about halfway through the gate when he said those last words. Several thoughts came to mind, a couple were what she would have expected (something along the lines of 'die slowly') and some of them were so far off in left field that she was shocked she even considered them. In the end all she could really do was shake her head.

"I don't know." She said as she walked through the gate, letting go and not really caring if he followed her or not.

Bruce grabbed the gate before it closed and stepped through, making sure it closed behind him. He looked back at her curiously, then hurried to catch up to her. He watched her walking before him; reassured himself that yes, indeed, her gait had changed. There was something different about her, and he was sure it wasn't good.

"Take your time." He responded. "If there is something you want, or need, just let me know and I will do everything in my power to see to it."

He came abreast of her, and turned to see her face. "What happened?" He asked, leaving it as open-ended as he could. "What's bothering you?"

"You mean besides the fact that my boss has a habit of disappearing at the most inopportune times?" She snapped.

As soon as the words left her mouth she was sorry she had said them. Bruce had been nothing but kind to her. He had never looked at her as if she were a piece of meat, never treated her like just another 'skirt'. That was the way she was used to being treated, so why did it matter so much that he didn't see her that way? Why was she suddenly sorry for calling him irresponsible and absent?

"It's been a really bad day." She said with a bit of a sigh, her features loosening a bit as she spoke.

She suddenly felt very tired, so much so that the thought of climbing the stairs to her apartment seemed daunting. Yet, she mounted the stairs as if she had all the energy in the world.

"You were told I would not always be there when you took the position, but that's not fair. I can't tell you why I am not there. I can only tell you that I truly believe it is important. You can trust my on that or not. If you will be maintaining your current position, though, you will have to accept it. I'm sorry, but that is the way it is."

He noticed the sudden fatigue set into her, and wanted to offer to carry her up the stairs, but hesitated. He didn't think she would take the gesture well.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" He asked, following her up the stairs, discreetly admiring the view. He shook off the notion, as it was disrespectful to her, whether she knew he was doing it or not. "What has you so upset?"

She grit her teeth as she continued to move, her loose waist length black hair bouncing with each step. She couldn't exactly tell him what was really bothering her, and the more she tried to ignore him the more he would push. That was how Bruce was. He always wanted it his way, and he always got it too.

She stopped moving abruptly, turning to face him. Her eyes were dark and her face still held that stoic expression. It gave most people the creeps, she wondered for a moment if it did the same to Bruce. A second later she brushed the thought aside and focused again on him.

"Do you always get what you want Bruce?" She asked, her voice gaining a hard edge. "Is it a talent you have learned or do people just faun over you because of your money?"

Bruce stopped instantly when Mamushi whirled on him. The better part of a lifetime of training had taught him to always be prepared, no matter what. His balance was perfect, his hands and feet ready for anything. In that moment, he was almost sure she was ready to attack. Her body seemed relaxed, but it was the same "relaxed" that he carried when he wanted to appear disarming or even cordial when he couldn't afford not to be ready. It was gone as fast he had noticed it, but he was supremely sure it had been there. Either she was naturally very graceful, almost preternaturally, or she had had training, and good training. Maybe that was the source of her discipline and adaptability?

Her face was a female version of the one he used to cow criminals on the streets of Gotham. He could only guess she expected a similar reaction to him. She was about to be disappointed.

"Do I always get what I want?" He repeated, then shouted it back at her. His fist clenched and he rose a step, then another until their bodies where touching. His eyes were slightly above hers, their noses almost touching. He felt her body through his, and he didn't care that it was a female body. Through that contact, he read her every movement. If she made a move against him, any move, he was ready.

"I want Arkham Asylum to be empty: I want for there to be no need for that place!"

"I want people in my city to walk the streets without fear!"

"I want to be able to trust the politicians our country puts into office!"

"I want this world not to need Superman!"

"I want children to be able to grow up in a kind and decent world with loving parents to guide them and nurture them! I want my parents back!!"


	4. Chapter 4

-1**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt**** and ****Wallaby**

**Chapter 4**

Bruce stared at her for just a second, recovering his temper and leveling his voice. "I want people who work for me, who give there all so that I can do what little I can to make all my wants a reality, to be able to trust me, and to be properly rewarded for all that they do."

He swallowed, then continued, "I want you not to be afraid of me, and to trust me. I want you to be okay."

He chuckled to himself then, feeling her softness against him for the first time. Finally, his voice had returned to normal, his face no longer a mask of hatred and disgust. "No, I don't always get what I want. Do you?"

Even as anger filled him and he raged at her she was comforted by his closeness, his warmth. She showed no fear in response to his outburst, only a curiosity that flashed through her eyes. Why would someone who ran a multi-billion dollar company care so much about an asylum for the criminally insane? She knew that he had created the asylum, she also knew that he took a great interest in making sure that security was tight and that the help that the prisoners got was the best there was. Common sense told her that was all it was, but her gut told her it was something more.

He worried about the people in his community, the fear that they lived with day in and day out. No millionaire worried about anyone but themselves. That was how it was, so what made Bruce so different? What made him worry so much about the world around him. Why did she suddenly get the feeling that he was more than what he appeared to be?

His comment about his parents made her flinch, her face softening and the mask of indifference fell away. Sorrow filled her eyes, pain etching her face for several seconds before it slipped away, dropping from her features as if she had simply shaken it off. It was not gone though, it would never be gone. It had been there all her life and would be until the day she died. That was how she survived, by keeping the pain and anger deep inside and using it for strength. Never had she seen it used as Bruce had just used it. To her, pain was a tool to remind you what the worst was, to remind her that she was still alive. Not...

Her thoughts trailed off as his next words reached her. 'I want you to be ok.' Surprise slipped across her face, her eyes suddenly meeting and searching his. She saw no deception in them, no desire, just honesty and gentleness. Why? No one cared about her. They used her and then tossed her aside, or they would if she let them. She never let them, never allowed anyone to get close, never gave them her back. She suddenly realized that she had done just that tonight. Since the moment she had met Bruce outside she had given him her back, given him a prime opportunity to strike at her. So why was she still standing?

His last question pulled her from her thoughts, refocusing her attention on him, on those rich brown pools that even after all that outrage still sparkled with a sense of caring and gentleness. It shocked her that one who had held so much anger and hatred just a moment before could let it go so easily. Oh how she envied him that.

"Never." she said softly, before she even realized what she was saying. "What I want has become irrelevant."

She should have backed away from him, should have put distance between them but her body just wouldn't move. At that moment all she could think of was his closeness, his warmth, and what it would feel like if he ran his fingers through her hair.

Shock at her words was visible in his eyes, but only to those carefully watching. From a distance, one would have noticed nothing of his initial reaction. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at her. His hand rose, and he realized he had meant to caress her cheek. It was not, however, an appropriate response for what he knew of her. Instead, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face, his eyes going to study the skin of her cheek as he did.

She wore no make-up, or very little. He had known that from their first meeting. He hadn't realized how smooth and perfect her skin was, or the lines around her eyes that she couldn't hide. Lines that showed pain and determination. Her eyes were beautiful, a brown deep enough to drown in if you let yourself. Her scent was light, clean, with the barest hint of an herb, leaving her own scent just noticeable underneath. There was an absolutely beautiful woman standing before him, and someone had done something horrible to her. He didn't know what, or when, but it hadn't been recently. She'd lived with it for a long time.

"It may have been irrelevant, but that changes now. I don't know what happened to you, I just know it was bad. You don't have to tell me until you're ready, if you ever are. Whatever it was, whatever has been haunting you, you matter. You are important. You are a vital, beautiful young lady. You are very talented and worthy of respect, admiration, and love. Whatever it takes to give you back who you are, it starts now. Maybe not who you were; maybe that person is gone. I don't know. But who you are matters. To me, and it should matter to you."

The touch comforted her, but it was not enough. She wanted more, wanted to feel his fingers caress her scalp, to feel...

She stopped herself before her thoughts went further, suddenly realizing that she was too close to him. She stepped backwards, hesitation in her step as she put distance between them. His words were ones she had not heard before, ones that were backed up by the sincerity and gentleness in his eyes. She wasn't sure what scared her most, the fact that he meant what he said or the fact that she believed him.

"You wouldn't like who I am." She whispered, suddenly dropping her eyes and stepping past him to start up the next flight of stairs. "I'm a monster."

She didn't turn around, didn't look at him again. His words had opened some deep wounds, ones that she had sown shut years ago. Now the stitches had popped, leaving the fear anger and pain to seep out. It would take hours of meditation to put it all back, and even then she was not sure that she could. It hurt, but she knew he did not do it on purpose.

She stopped on the next landing but didn't turn around. Her voice was soft and low as she spoke, her tone almost that of a frightened child.

"Thank you for coming. I know your busy, but thank you for taking the time."

The sentence had barely left her mouth when she began moving again, making her way up the stairs towards her floor.

Bruce's brow knitted in confusion at her declaration to be a monster. Bruce knew monsters. He hunted them, tracked them. He had become one of them in an effort to frighten them back into the holes they'd crawled out of. Sometimes it even worked. Everything he knew about her spoke of an almost brutal efficiency, a fierce ability to see things through and make sure they were right. None of that equated to her being a monster. However, a monster is culturally defined. One man's monster was another's savior.

Bruce shook his head. This was no time to debate the philosophies of what monstrous was. Nothing she had done fit his definition of monstrous, and she'd had precious little time to be doing very much that he wouldn't have become aware of. She either believed what she said, which he had a hard time believing, or she sought to make him believe she did, a possibility he believed even less.

Her words on the landing focused his attention squarely back on her, and galvanized him to action. It was true that she didn't really owe his anything, but he felt he owed her, instead. He followed her up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time until he caught her. He knew better than to lay a hand on her. Apart from social considerations, it would give her a tremendous advantage over him tactically. He thought it odd he had that thought, but he knew better than to question his instincts.

"I'm not that busy." He answered. Despite running up the stairs, he was not at all winded. "You are a large reason for that, so it is fitting I spend that time with you."

He maneuvered himself in front of her, not baring her way, but ensuring she would have to go around him to continue. "Why do you think you are a monster? What could you have done that would ever make you believe that?"

Bruce cringed at his own words, though he kept his tone level. He knew better than to ask those words, and he almost regretted it as soon as he did. If his face showed anything besides a deep abiding care, it was worry. If it was for her, though, or for what she might say, was up to her to figure out.

She knew why she thought of herself as a monster. It was because she was a killer, an assassin of the highest caliber. She had hundreds of kills under her belt, but that was not what made her a monster. What made her a monster was the fact that she was proud of every single kill, not regretting a single one. That was what made her so monstrous.

She couldn't tell him that though, she could never tell him that. She wondered why. Yes, secrecy was a part of the job but she knew that wasn't the whole reason. She met his gaze as she tried to find the reason, searching her own mind as she searched his gaze. When she found that reason her eyes widened slightly and her heart thundered in her chest. The answer was in his eyes, those uncertain brown pools that stared into her own. She didn't want to see those eyes looking at her in fear. Just the idea of it scared her, made her want to pack up everything and run. Why? He was her target, her victim. A Viper never ran from it's prey.

She pulled her gaze from his, looking down at her hands as she formulated an answer. Not truth, but not lies either.

"I am ruthless." She was trying to convince herself, and even so her voice sounded stronger than she felt at the moment. "Would do anything to accomplish a goal that is not even mine. I have no purpose, save to serve others..."

She trailed off, realizing she had said too much. The words were what she told herself every morning while looking in the mirror, but recently they had been filled with less and less conviction. She was loosing herself in the character she was playing, and she suddenly realized that if she began to drown there would be no one there to pull her out. Those who waited on the shore waited with guns and knives...

She heaved a sigh and shook her head, taking a step to the right in an attempt to get past him. She didn't want to talk anymore. It made her think...and those thoughts scared the hell out of her.

Bruce wanted to tell her that ruthless did not have to be a bad thing, but the word made him think of Lex Luthor. He let that go. There was a fine line between acceptable and problematic with "ruthless."

He took a step back, matching her forward progress. He wasn't letting her go with talk like that. He had seen suicide notes cheerier than that.

"What do you mean you don't have a purpose? I don't mean what you do for me. That's a job, a career if you want it to be, but not a life's purpose."

His mind was racing. What she'd said about "serving others," and how she had said it, didn't sound right. Who was she serving now? Him, in a way, but he didn't think so. Her resume was impeccable, but not one of servitude. It was one of remarkable drive and dedication, definitely of someone working toward something. That was what had initially grabbed his attention about her.

"Who are you serving now, and who did you serve a year ago? You're not a person without goals, Mamushi. That is obvious to anyone who has met you. You're one of the most driven people I know. What goals are you trying to accomplish that aren't your own?"

She shook her head. She should not have said anything. Why had she said what she had? Better question, how did she get out of this without telling him the truth? Simple answer...lie.

"My goal right now is to keep your company in your hands," she said simply, turning slightly angry eyes on him, "And it seems at times that I am the only one who cares about that particular goal."

This was where avoidance came in.

"Have you seen the video of the meeting this morning yet?" She asked, but then didn't give him a chance to answer. "The men who are share holders in your company almost lost that company for you this afternoon. The Genutek proposal was the beginning of a hostile take over. With the way it was written there was no benefit for Wayne industries from the merger, but no one in that room knew that. No one in that room took the time to pay attention to the wording of the proposal. I bet you missed it too."

It was not a challenge, simply an observation. He had been too 'busy', so had everyone else. Still, her point was not to accuse him of being lax, it was to get his mind off of his questions.

Bruce's gaze became wary, but he decided to follow where she led.

"I saw the video, and I read the proposal. Jenkins won't forget your little barb, by the way. I think I'll have his office repainted tomorrow, if you could suggest a color. I think I'd rather let him know that I have my eye on him before he gets any ideas."

He gave her a curt nod and just the hint of a smile before continuing. "I trusted that you would read it as I did, and I was not disappointed. However, had the proposal passed, our next move would have been to acquire Genutek itself. Lucious was already tracking down the majority of shares of the company and drawing up plans for securing a fifty-one percent share of the stock. It would have been a costly proposition, but it would have saved us from the losses of the one you so deftly defeated. You made the right decision. Thank you."

He looked in her eyes for just a brief moment, trying to read her response to the fact that he did, in fact, know what was going on in his company.

"The next step is to try and renegotiate a proposal with them. Failing that, we go ahead with the buy-out. They have some ideas that can help us, and I won't let their greed stand in the way of progress.

"I'm sorry you sometimes feel I am out of touch. It is an unfortunate side-effect to my trust in your abilities. Without your presence, the meeting would have been cancelled, and we would have to start over with them from scratch. You saved us valuable time, and taught a valuable lesson to the men in that room that I would not have been able to. They would have expected me to know the answers, or at least to have already made a decision, and more than likely they would have backed whatever I said. They had very different assumptions about you. Hopefully, you not only helped them see their assumptions about you were wrong, but that they need to be more attentive to their own business. Not many of them like to be embarrassed. Maybe you got through to some of them. "

Bruce sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry. That makes it sound like you are being used as a pawn, and that is not at all what is happening. You were there because you are capable of doing what needed to be done, because you are a talented and brilliant executive. Everything else was fall-out."

Bruce steepled his hands and pressed his fingers into his chin, his gaze going deep into her eyes. "Hopefully, that assures you that you are not the only Keeper of the Gate at Wayne Enterprises."

He wasn't sure how best to go forward with this; he decided a direct approach might work. "However well you may have changed the subject, the question still stands. Who are you working for now, and whom were you working for a year ago? You are putting a lot of effort into avoiding these questions. That makes me curious. You are far too driven and far too efficient to allow these matters to take up all of your life. What are you not telling me?"


	5. Chapter 5

-1**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt**** and ****Wallaby**

**Chapter 5**

The ploy had worked, just not well enough. He had responded too quickly and then gone right back to the previous question. She honestly had no idea that he knew that much about it. She thought she was the only one who had taken the time. It was obvious she had been wrong, but that put her right back where they had started.

"I have no life." She said with a shrug and a frown, dropping her gaze. "I never have had. I was married once. He was murdered. I do my best not to get too close to anyone, it only causes more pain. I have been searching for his murder for years, and have not found anything short of dead ends and empty information."

She had no way out of this, no way to get past his questions. What was she to say? What was she to tell him?

"I work for you now." She said softly. "A year ago I worked for a design company out of Vegas. I didn't like the scenery or the memories so I moved here, hoping for a new start."

She looked up at him then, allowing the pain that he had opened back up to show in her eyes. Most of it was truth, with a few clever omissions. She just hoped it was enough to satisfy him.

"My drive is because I choose to bury myself in my work, to focus on the details so that I don't have to think about the lonely apartment that I go home to every night. So that I don't have to remember finding my husband's body in a pool of his own blood in our bed. So that I don't have to think about the man who raised me laying in a pool very similar to my husband's on the floor of his DoJo in Japan. So that I don't have to feel the pain. So that my mind is so numb at night that I don't cry myself to sleep."

She hadn't meant to loose control, but the tears that now slipped down her cheeks was a sure sign that she had done just that. How did one bury such things once they had been pulled fresh and bloody from the depths that you had secured them in? And how did someone so innocent looking manage to bring such raw, pulsing pain to the forefront so easily?

Bruce's jaw clenched as he listened to her. Her emotion was raw enough that he didn't doubt what she said. This was just more proof that there was no god, or at least not a benevolent one. If there were a god, things like this just wouldn't be allowed to happen. There would be no need for it, no motivation.

"I'm sorry." He said, and the simple words came from the bottom of his soul. He knew what loss was like. His parents; Jason, who had been like a son to him; Barbara's legs. That was just the tip of the iceberg. But he also knew that telling her he knew what it was like not only wouldn't help; it would be a lie. Nobody knew his pain, because it was his. He could never know her pain. It didn't work that way.

He sighed, and his hand went reassuringly to her shoulder. "I have friends. I can ask them for their help in bringing down whoever is responsible for this, but you have to be careful. Closure can help, but vengeance rarely does."

He rubbed her shoulder, and then took her into an embrace, holding her tight against him like a father holds their child. He willed for the pain to leave her, and for a peace to enter her, but he knew it wouldn't work. He couldn't give her something he never had.

"I won't lie to you." He said softly. "I won't tell you the pain will go away or that it will become easier. It doesn't. But you can learn to live with it. The first thing you need to do is find yourself. I will help you in any way I can, and the resources of Wayne Enterprises are at you disposal to help you build a new life."

He eased his embrace, his hands going to her hair, and he kissed her on the forehead.

"You don't have to live like this." He assured her.

She knew all about vengeance and how much help it gave. She had taken it on the man who had killed her Sensei...but it had not helped. All it had done was bind her to something that she should have stayed far away from. It was too late now, far too late.

His hand on her shoulder annoyed her, she had to fight not to shrug it off. Any other time she would have relished his touch, ached for it, but at this point in time she wanted nothing to do with it. He was the reason she had lost control, the reason that her pain was once again raw and bleeding. She just wanted him to go away. She didn't want or need his help.

She did not fight him as he pulled her to him, allowing the action and doing her best not to tense up. The tears had slowed now, but the pain was still there...would be for a while. She stood silently against his warmth as he talked, only vaguely hearing his words as she tried to keep the urge to push away from him at bay. This was her part...so why was it now so hard to play?

She pulled away from him slightly as he loosened his grip, aware of where his hands were and how they moved up to rest gently on either side of her head above her ears. Then his lips touched her forehead, and it felt as if electricity ran through her body. Her hands flattened against his chest and her breath hitched in her throat. The place where his lips touched her skin seemed to be on fire, and the feeling was spreading across her skin. She closed her eyes and felt the heat rise within her body. His lips were soft and warm against her skin, his touch gentle and almost protective. Why did she react to him this way? Why did she crave his touch...and why did she seem to lean into it when it was given, almost like she was begging for more?

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palms and her heart seemed to match his. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips as she strove to control the reaction, to will herself to calm down. Her body would not listen. It was betraying her to his touch...and all the logic and reasoning in the world wasn't going to stop it.

Bruce felt the response in Mamushi. It was in the way her breathing changed, in the way her hands pressed into his flesh, in the way she almost seemed to lean into him, in the way her skin blushed. Bruce had seen the reaction a thousand times, and seen it faked many more. She didn't want to be alone right now, he believed, but he didn't know if she had thought this through or not.

However, this was not a woman who wanted the prestige of being seen on his arm, or who wanted the privilege of saying she had bedded a billionaire. He had bedded more women than he could count, each of then eagerly trading the pleasures of their body for a piece of his fame, not to mention the pleasure that it gave them in return. He had used them and they had used him. No promises, no expectations. He felt neither guilt nor regret.

Mamushi was not like that, though. Had she been, it would have been likely she would not have held the position this long, nor been as efficient in it. She was vulnerable, and no matter how much he might have wanted to, he couldn't take advantage of her. She deserved better than that.

He turned her head up so she faced him fully, and he realized for the first time how much taller than her he was. He waited to speak until her gaze met his.

"We've both had long days."

He paused, very uncharacteristically, as he searched for the right words to say.

"Forget for a moment that you work for me. That doesn't matter right now. Don't answer to please me, and don't give me the answer you think I want to hear. Just give me the truth."

He paused again. "Do you want me to go home, or do you want us to spend the night together. I would be honored, and consider it a great privilege, to share a bed with you tonight. I'm not sure how I feel about you being alone, and I know I would rather you not be alone if you don't want to be."

He rolled his eyes, and laughed slightly, a blush coming to his cheeks. He smiled down at her for a moment with genuine mirth in his eyes, though there was passion hidden behind it.

"Great, I'm blushing. I don't blush. Have you ever seen me blush?" he asked, forcing his speech over the laughter that threatened. "I don't blush."

He cleared his throat and looked at her again, his face once again serious, the only emotion showing was on ambiguous need. "If it would suit you, I would like to spend the night with you, Mamushi. But only if it would suit you."

Her heart caught in her throat, her fingers flexing slightly against the fabric of his shirt. This was what she had been working for over a year to accomplish. Yet, now that the moment was here she was not sure she could go through with it. She wanted to, god how she wanted to, but that was probably the problem. She had never wanted a man the way she wanted Bruce...not even Kevin.

"Bruce..." It was a whisper, one that betrayed the heat that she felt right now. It wasn't supposed to do that.

She swallowed, her hands flexing again before she removed them. No, she couldn't do this, not tonight...not like this. If he came to her apartment they would see, they would know. Why did that upset her, why did it scare her?

"I can't." She whispered, averting her eyes from his. "I...I..."

She couldn't help it, she was at a loss for words. This had never happened before. She spoke very seldom, and yet when she did it was always with a purpose and something to say. It was rare that she found she had nothing to say. Yet, this was one of those times.

"I'm sorry." She said softly as she stepped back. "It's not that I don't want to...it's just..."

She met his gaze, her want for him there as well as her fear. She wasn't afraid of him, she was afraid of how he made her feel, what he did to her. The urge to run rushed through her, and before she could stop herself she rushed past him and started up the stairs again.

Bruce watched her go, wondering if this was one of those moments people regretted later in life. She felt such pain, such conflict; he wanted to help her, but he wouldn't force himself on her. Perhaps he should've, he thought, but that was not his way. Fear, intimidation, and force were tools reserved for a purpose. They were not to be used casually. He would not force himself on her, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he thought she wanted him to.

He stood where she had been, her scent barely lingering in the air as she hurried up the stair. He thought to call after her, to remind her of the plane tomorrow, but he knew it was unnecessary. She would be there, probably before the plane was even fueled. She was always there, always prepared, always watching, always studying her adversaries, searching out their weak points. He knew he could depend on her for that.

Mamushi rushed into her apartment and slammed the door behind her, her body leaning against it heavily as tears welled up in her eyes. She had blown it, and she knew it. The sobs began as her body slid to the floor, her coat bunching at her waist as her knees touched her chest and her bottom touched solid floor. This wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Her feelings were getting in the way of her job, and if they found out they would kill her. She had been lucky the last time, what if she wasn't this time?

Sparks had loved her, she had felt it in his touch, the way he looked at her. She had felt something for him as well but she knew it was not love. She had killed Sparks anyway and regretted it every day since. He was the only target she did not count, the only one that she regretted. Now it was happening all over again with Bruce. Could she do it? Could she kill him like she had Sparks? Did she have enough courage left in her to draw the blade across his throat? She didn't know, she just didn't know.

Her head leaned back into the door as she continued to sob, her heart aching so much it made her breathless. Why was this so hard? Why did she want to save him, to keep him alive and safe? Why did his touch awake this fire within her...and could she put that fire out before it consumed her? She didn't know, she had no answers.

So there she sat, the great Viper, sobbing on the floor of her apartment like a school girl who had lost her first crush.

--

Maloi Karami stared at the man before him, anger in his eyes and a deep frown creasing his features.

"She did what?" His voice was low and dangerous, making the man before him shudder and flinch slightly.

"Rejected him." Came the mumbled reply. "He asked to spend the night with her...and she rejected him."

Maloi uttered several words in his native tongue. The tone and sharpness of the words made it evident that they were curses. This had gotten out of hand and there was nothing that he could do about it. He sat for several moments, his hand running through his salt and pepper hair as his mind turned the events over in his mind. Never in his 53 years of life had he thought that this would happen. True, he was not where he was 53 years ago, but the implication still stood. He had never been defied before, and he was not about to let it happen now.

Still, he hesitated to do what he knew had to be done. It was necessary but that did not make it any easier. Had it been anyone else it would have been simple, he would have given the order and it would have been done. This, this was different. This was Viper...his Viper. But if he showed weakness then he would simply become food for the sharks. No, he had to stick to his guns on this one. It was expected of him.

"She has disobeyed me." He said with a heavy sigh, his tone stronger than he had expected. "Take Teka and Soru and deal with her."

The man before him nodded, then got to his feet and left the room. Karami heaved another heavy sigh, his attention focused on the hands that were folded on the table before him. He kept telling himself that it had to be done, that it was necessary. He had been telling himself that for years, ever since he had first given the order to teach the girl the way of the Kunoichi. Perhaps he should have expected that she would balk one day, perhaps he did not want to believe it. Either way, the day had come and he had given the order. It had to be done, order had to be maintained...even at the expense of his most prized possession.


	6. Chapter 6

-1**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 6**

Mamushi sat in her bed and wondered absently how she had gotten here. The last thing she remembered was setting on the floor in front of the door. She had no memory of getting up and moving to the bedroom, let alone getting into bed. She hadn't even bothered to put her pajamas on or even braid her hair. It was not like her, and the thought of combing out the mess that her hair had become during sleep gave her a headache.

She had to assume that she had indeed been the one to move to her bed on her own but it bothered her that she had no memory of the event. However, all thoughts of such a thing fled her mind when she glanced over at the alarm clock. It was 9:30. She was late. She was never late.

Throwing the covers off she jumped from the bed and shed her cloths as she made her way for the shower. She didn't have the time for her usual long shower, so she rushed through everything but her hair. If she had rushed through washing and conditioning her hair it would have ended up even worse than it had been before she washed it.

Stepping out of the shower only ten minutes after she got in she toweled herself off, dried her hair as much as possible and then set about getting dressed as well as combing and braiding her hair. It took longer than she had expected to work through her hair and by the time she came out of the bedroom fully dressed it was past 10. The plane was set to leave at 11. She had never been this late before.

Luckily she had packed all her things the night before so all she had to do was grab something for breakfast and grab her bags and she was ready to go.

Breakfast turned out to be a cereal bar as she grabbed her bags and made her way out the door. If she missed that plane Bruce would never let her live it down.

--

Bruce woke early the next morning. Alfred had long ago become accustomed to his employer's odd sleeping habits. The Batman slept when he could, frequently no where near enough, and stalked his prey when the trail was hot. That he got up so early for a business meeting, however, made the butler curious.

"Good morning, Alfred," Bruce greeted the man who was at once his faithful servant, his closest confidant, and his surrogate father. "Just a light breakfast if you would. I want to stay on my toes today."

"Certainly, sir," Alfred responded. As he went about preparing the meal, his attention stayed focused on its intended recipient. "If you don't mind my saying so, sir, you seem rather eager to attend the meeting today. Is there something on the agenda I missed?"

"No, nothing on the agenda." Bruce took a long drink of cranberry juice before continuing. "Have you noticed anything different about Ms. Keishi recently? A change in behavior, or maybe her withdrawing?"

"Withdrawing from what, sir," Alfred asked, setting the bagel and fruit before Bruce and sitting down across from him with a cup of tea and some toast. "She has seemed rather annoyed at your failure to show up and run your business of late, but I think one would expect that. Don't you?"

Bruce looked at the butler from the corner of his eye. "You know perfectly well why I can't attend all the meeting, Alfred. I understand you don't always approve, and I appreciate your support, but I didn't expect to hear that from you."

"And what exactly did you hear from me, sir? I know why you can't make all the meetings. That is why I can accept it. Ms. Keishi does not know, and should not be expected to understand. All I did, sir, was to answer your question."

Bruce rolled his eyes and began to speak, but Alfred put up a hand, stopping him. "If you please, sir, I was not finished. Ms. Keishi has been more forthcoming of late than usual, and not at all withdrawn, at least with me. Apparently, however, you are experiencing something else."

Alfred nodded, both in thanks for being allowed to speak his peace and to let Bruce know he had done so.

"I'm concerned about her," Bruce confessed. "I want to help her, but I may be driving her away."

"Help her with what, if I may ask?"

"Well, that's just it. I'm not sure." Bruce paused to wipe his mouth, and pushed the plate toward the center of the table. "Something is wrong. Something has happened, but I'm not sure what. I think something from her past is haunting her, and I wan to help her put that behind her, permanently."

Alfred's eyebrows rose at the statement. "Really?" he asked, though it was more of an accusation than a question.

"Yeah, I know," Bruce said, looking at nothing in particular. "I'm one to talk about putting things to rest. Anyway, make sure we have a few good candidates to look at incase she does decide to leave."

Alfred sighed and shook his head. "Bruce, give her some room. You can't come to everyone's rescue. Just make sure she knows you are there if she needs you, but don't push her. She is too valuable to your company to risk." To himself, he added that she just might be to valuable for Bruce, too, but saying it aloud would only galvanize Bruce, one way or another, and that wouldn't help.

Bruce nodded as he rose and moved to check himself in the mirror again before leaving. "I don't want her to leave, and I won't ask her to, but I can't ignore the possibility that she may. Make sure we have suitable candidates should that particular situation arise."

Alfred only nodded as he began to clear the table. Like always, Bruce would follow his own advice, regardless of how much he might seek out that of others. Hopefully, it would work out well for everyone involved.

--

Bruce sat waiting outside the gate to Mamushi's apartment, going over the notes for the upcoming meeting again in his mind. He'd seen activity in her apartment, and had noticed another man lingering in the area. The other, however, left before very long. It bothered Bruce a little, thinking Mamushi might be being stalked. He'd have to look into that sometime, but for the moment, she seemed safe enough.

He looked at his watch again. He'd have thought she would have been ready long ago and at the airport by now, but she seemed to be running late. Very uncharacteristic of her. He wondered how she had spent the night, and if she had gotten sufficient rest. At any rate, she'd be ready soon enough, and the plane wouldn't leave without them. It was his plane, after all.

--

Mamushi rushed out the main doors of the apartment complex, then took a sharp right and headed for the parking garage. She did not have time to wait for a cab so she had decided that she would have to drive her own car. It was a simple vehicle, a tan 1999 Toyota Camry. It was simple and non-descript, unlike the black car that was setting out at the front curb.

Mamushi suddenly stopped, her attention settling fully on that black car. She had seen it, just not paid any attention to it. Now she gave it her full attention and had to fight the urge to frown. Bruce Wayne sat in the driver's seat, looking as if he had been waiting for hours for her. He did not look annoyed by the waiting, but bored. For a moment her mind wandered over the reasons why he had come to pick her up and a sense of panic set in. She soon pushed it away, reminding herself that not everything had to have a reason. Perhaps Bruce was just being nice. From what she knew of him it could be the truth, but Mamushi was still skeptical.

Heaving a sigh she shouldered her overnight bag and walked towards the car, pulling the gate open and stepping through to stand on the sidewalk next to the driver's side door. She looked down at him with an almost exasperated expression on her face but it faded quickly.

"Bruce," she said softly, trying to keep the surprise and the suspicion out of her voice, "Have you been waiting long?"

She wanted to demand he tell her why he was here, but she did not. It would put him on the defensive, and make him wonder what she was trying to hide. Truth be told she was not really sure she wanted to see him yet after last night. It had been far too awkward for her tastes and she had not even gotten a chance to meditate through all the feelings yet. This should be an interesting morning.

"Good morning to you to, Mamushi," he said with an easy smile.

She was upset. Her voice and demeanor were both neutral, but she was not observing the formalities she typically adhered to. Or perhaps she just hadn't put the face on yet today.

"No, I haven't been waiting very long. I noticed a guy hanging around your place, though. He took off when he knew I'd noticed him. I'll have security run by and keep an eye on the place to make sure all is well."

He got out of the car to help her secure her luggage and get seated in the car, then returned to the driver's seat, meticulously belting himself in and making sure she did likewise. Once they were on the road again, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'd like to be able to say I'm sorry about last night, but I wouldn't want to be misunderstood. I am sorry that old wounds were opened, but my offer to help you work through them resolutely stands. As to my offer to stay, that I regret not at all. I fully respect your decision to decline, and harbor no grudge. I would ask that you hold none for my having been so forward."

Bruce continued to navigate the car through traffic, fully living up to his Devil-may-care reputation as a risk taker, though his proficiency matched his reputation as well. Whatever he did in his time away from the office, it was obvious it was not limited to beaches, pools, and the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 7**

Mamushi's eyes were fixed on the road before them, her hands clenched in her lap as she watched the road and the cars whiz by. She hated being the passenger because you never knew where you were being taken. Which is probably why she never went anywhere without at least one knife on her person. Still, it had taken a great deal of time for her to learn to be a calm and relaxed passenger. She was on edge though, clasping her hands in her lap in order to keep from fidgeting. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when Bruce had informed her that someone had been outside her complex. Fear was creeping back into her for the first time in years, and she hated that feeling. It almost made her want to call off the trip, but after the fuss that she had made the day before about him making the trip it would look bad if she tried to back out now.

"The invitation was not unwanted," she said softly, her eyes never leaving the road in front of them, "It was just unexpected."

Bruce glanced over at Mamushi for a brief moment, trying to gauge if her remarks were polite or sincere. Turning his eyes back to the road, he decided there wasn't enough information to make a decision. She looked tense, but then Bruce realized this was the first time he had ever driven her anywhere. His driving, while as safe as he could make, could be unsettling to the uninitiated.

"Sorry," he said with a slight smile, backing off from the accelerator a bit, and moving with traffic instead of knifing through it. "I sometimes forget that not everyone drives like I do.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice perfectly neutral, without any inflection or hint of a hidden meaning. "I didn't sleep as well as I would have liked, but well enough to handle today's meeting. As long as no one tries to make a speech," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Did she sleep well? She had no idea. She didn't even remember falling asleep. She felt rested, or as rested as usual she supposed. No one had ever actually asked her how she had slept before.

"I suppose I slept ok," she said with a shrug, "And your driving doesn't bother me. The car can handle it. Not sure the other motorists can but that's their problem. Besides, why buy a car like this unless you're going to drive it to its full potential?"

He hadn't even hit its full potential yet. She knew, she had test driven one of these cars before. She loved them, but with her 'low profile' attitude she had passed on purchasing one. She needed to remain inconspicuous, which meant that the flashy cars were out. A shame too, she had a thing for cars. Especially this one. It did bear her name after all.

She didn't laugh at the joke, didn't even really smile at it. Her mind was focused on the man whom Bruce had seen outside her apartment. Something was wrong, she could feel it. The call the other morning had set her on edge and now this. She could tell that something was not right, but at the moment there was nothing she could do about it.

"I'm sure the meeting will go fine," she said softly.

Bruce gave her a glance with a boyish smile, down shifted, hit the gas, and squawked the tired as he knifed out into traffic again. It actually took less of his attention to drive full out then it did to follow the rules of traffic. It was what he had trained for, he knew, and it had become second nature. That the streets were somewhat congested only made it more interesting.

Her total failure to respond at all to his jokes, though, bothered him. She was usually far too polite to not at least smile at an obvious attempt at humor. Whatever was bothering her took up far too much of her mind for his comfort.

"When was the last time you took any vacation?" he asked, apparently out of the blue. "I don't remember a day that you weren't there since you started. While I value dedication, you have a most demanding position. I don't want you to burn out, after all; I need you too much!"

He quieted for a moment as his concentration focused on a few maneuvers that would have made Alfred blanch, using the brakes, transmission, and top grade rubber to knife the vehicle through a red light.

"I really shouldn't do that," he muttered more to himself than Mamushi, relaxing back into the leather. "Is there anyplace you have a particular interest in visiting? Anywhere at all?"

"I've never had a vacation," she said honestly, smiling slightly as he slipped the car through a red light, "Never really thought about it. Nowhere I really want to go. I've been just about everywhere. Considered going back home once or twice...but there hasn't been anything there for me in a very long time."

She had not been back to Japan since she had left in search of her Sensei's killer. Like she had said, she considered going back but she had come to the conclusion that there was nothing left there for her. She had made her life in America, and that is where she would stay. Vacation was a nice idea but in her line of work it was never practical. For the briefest of moments an idea occurred to Mamushi, one that made her eyes become distant and her face lighten. However, a moment later she pulled herself back to reality and the 'day dream' was gone. She was what she was and nothing short of death would change that.

Bruce shook his head slightly, the hint of a frown creasing his brow. "At the risk of being imperious, that is another thing that will have to change. I'm not sure the Middle East is a good idea right now. Japan is a possibility, if you'd like to go there, or perhaps Germany or Scotland. If you don't decide, I will, but you are going on vacation when this is over. You deserve it."

Bruce forced the car into an over-steer to enter the parking area, and slid the car into a reserved parking space. It was slightly crooked, a fact he scowled at. "Must have picked up some oil on a tire. Something," he mused, then killed the engine and was out of the car almost before the last of the dash lights had completely dimmed out, and headed around to help Mamushi out. It didn't take long for them to retrieve their bags, Bruce actually having only a small carry-on.

"I really have everything I need already there," he explained. "What I don't have I either don't need, or I can buy."

She gave a slight smile and a nod as she retrieved her single carry-on and a larger suitcase. She did not try to explain why she carried so much, but rather chose to reply to his previous question.

"I suppose I could always go back to Japan for a visit," she said with a resigned sigh, "I haven't been home in almost 10 years, not that there is much to go home too."

It was true. The DoJo that she had grown up in had been sold to a developer who had knocked it down for new apartment buildings and seeing as that was the only home she knew there was nothing to go back to. She had never actually thought of going back, and to be honest she did not know a lot about her homeland. Perhaps a visit was in order. She had only ever known the areas around Tokyo. Perhaps she should take the time to visit a few places that she had not before.

She shook her head, a frown creasing her features as she caught herself day dreaming again. It was nice to do so, but she had never been this prone to it. She was a puppet, one that was steered by her master and once this job was done she would be steered in another direction. There would be no vacation.

Heaving a sigh she turned and headed for the main building, expecting Bruce to follow but not waiting for him.

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he followed her in. "You'll enjoy it. I promise. Besides, vacations aren't supposed to be dreaded. The Kiyomizu-dera Temple is magnificent, and the Nijo-jo Castle is an excellent example of architecture from the Edo period. You probably know more about the country than I do, though. You'll be fine."

He closed the distance to her, moving his hand to take her suitcase. "I can't have you carrying that much more than me. Bad for my image."

She gave a slight frown but gave up the case anyway, allowing him to take it from her hands as she fell into step beside him instead of in front of him.

"Just because one grows up in a country does not mean that they know all about it," she said softly, "I grew up in Tokyo. All I know of my country is what is around Tokyo. I've never even been to Mount Fuji. I've seen more of the US than I have Japan. But that's just because this is where I choose to be."

"And that is to my benefit, no doubt. The places I mentioned are in Kyoto. The old capitol is truly an amazing city. You could spend a year there and still wish you had more time."

He led her around the ticket counter and toward the gate. He smiled and gave Alfred a nod as the elder gentleman waited to see them off. It never ceased to amaze Bruce how much the old man was like a father to him.

"Good morning, sir and miss," Alfred greeted them as he stepped forward. "Punctual as ever, I see," he noted with a twitch of his mustache.

Mamushi gave a smile and a slight nod to the older gentleman. This was the first time she had met the butler, but she had talked to him many times over the phone before. He seemed like a pleasant enough man, and he seemed to genuinely care about his employer. That was a rare thing these days.

"I had some problems with traffic," Bruce lied easily, a warm smile spreading across his face. He knew Alfred wouldn't believe him, but he also wouldn't challenge him. He definitely didn't want to embarrass Mamushi.

"Excuse me, sir," said the elder of a pair of Airport Security guards. "You are Bruce Wayne, sir?"

"I better be," Bruce responded, still wearing an easy smile. "That's the name in my underwear."

"And the lady is Mamushi Keishi?" the guard continued, obviously nervous. It wasn't everyday he was instructed to stop Gotham's most powerful man.

The smile began to fade from Bruce's face. "Keishi Mamushi, actually. Why do you ask? Is there a problem?"

"Well, sir, I hope not. We'd like to speak to her alone for a moment."

"You can speak to her right here. We have a plane to catch, and I'd rather not make it wait any longer than necessary. What's the problem?"

"This is really very awkward, sir," the guard said. He tried to be authoritative, but couldn't quite keep a quiver out of his voice. He wasn't sure, but Bruce Wayne might actually own the airport. "We have reason to believe she may be carrying contraband materials. We have instructions to check her luggage and person."

The frown that had began when she first saw the two guards was now a full blow scowl. She had never been singled out before, and on this of all days. Not to mention the fact that they were on their way to a private plane. Did they actually have the right to search her if she was not getting on a commercial jet?

"Do you," Bruce replied, all humor gone from his demeanor. "What are you expecting to find? A knitting needle? Nasal spray? A ball point pen? No, wait, those are still legal."

His comments would have been funny if it were not for the fact that there were two knives stashed in her suitcase. She was suddenly very aware of what was going on and she didn't like it. They wanted her unarmed, which meant leaving her defenseless. Her bad vibe had suddenly turned into a full blow panic.

"Sir, really, this is really all very routine," the guard replied, trying to be calm and to make this seem less than it was. "If you would - -"

"It is all very not routine," he said sharply, cutting the guard off. He took a breath, knowing he had to be careful. It would be easy to let Batman come to the fore, but Batman wasn't here right now. Still, a little righteous indignation would hardly be out of place. He noted Mamushi was getting tense, but that was to be expected. In Bruce's mind, this was intolerable. "Routine is stopping people randomly, and concentrating on public flights, not private ones. You stopped her by name, and by association with me. Let us end the ruse. What's going on?"

"I told you, sir, we have reason to believe - -"

"What reason?" Bruce interrupted again, then shook his head. "Never mind, you wouldn't know."

Bruce turned to Mamushi, "I'm sorry, but I think it will be more expedient if we leave our luggage behind. I promise you, it will be safe, with Alfred." He reached to take her carry-on from her.


	8. Chapter 8

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 8**

It had taken all of her mental talents to keep her panic from the surface. Had she allowed it to come up as it had tried she would have been near hysterics by now. Still, she had retained control but it had shaken her confidence severely as well as her sense of safety. Up until this moment she had always believed that she could deal with anything, but the idea of going to a foreign country with nothing but a single weapon and only her martial arts talents to protect her did not set well with her. Still, she had to maintain face and allow them all to believe that she was the unaffected one.

"All right," she said with a slight nod, her voice much more solid than she felt.

Without another thought she handed her bag to Bruce, watching helplessly as it was then handed to Alfred. For the first time in her life she felt naked and unprotected...and it scared the hell out of her.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne," the guard protested. He was still nervous, but at least he was on sound footing here, and he began to show more confidence. "I can't let you do that. Once you've started to board a plane, everything you have on or with you is subject to search, and if appropriate, seizure. You do not have the option of leaving it behind."

"There's a problem with your interpretation of the situation, good sir," Bruce replied, calmly, smoothly, and even a bit smugly. "We haven't started to board a plane yet. You stopped us before we got that far. However, if you would like my lawyers to look into this, that can be accommodated. Believe me, I am very much looking forward to a legal challenge to the nation's policies on airport security. Go ahead, son. Give me that venue."

The guard visibly blanched, trying to find a fault in Mr. Wayne's logic. Taking a deep breath, he went on to the one area he felt he still had sure footing on. "We'll still need to search her person, sir, and yours as well now."

"And on what grounds is this search going to take place?" Bruce asked, obviously annoyed at the guards persistence. "Do you honestly believe that either myself or Ms. Keishi represent a danger to this airport, its staff, or its patrons?"

"I have in...instructions, sir," the guard countered.

"Very well," Bruce answered, taking Mamushi by the arm. "My personal assistant and I are boarding my plane now. If you want to stop us, you will have to arrest us. I know you have the power to do so, but do you really think you or, more to the point, your employers can afford the legal ramifications of such an act? And believe me, you will not be able to detain her without detaining me as well."

"Sir," Alfred interjected, "don't you think this is a bit extreme?"

The guards showed hope at the elder gentleman's words, but they misinterpreted his meaning.

"Yes," Bruce answered. "That citizens should be harassed so while trying to use private transportation is indeed a bit extreme."

The guards continued to verbally protest Bruce and Mamushi's departure, but did nothing to stop them as the two brushed past them and moved towards the tarmac. Mamushi allowed Bruce to lead her about halfway, far enough away to be out of earshot of the guards.

"Bruce," she said intently, allowing the physical pain to show on her face, "You're hurting me."

Mamushi could hear Bruce's teeth grit at her protest, though he was upset with himself, not with her. His hand moved from her arm to the small of her back. He refused to give up the visual picture that he was literally taking her onto the plane. "I'm sorry," he apologized to her quietly. Following her up the stairs, he continued, "I don't usually get that upset, but it's not with you. What they call security just galls me."

The door was closed behind them as the plane taxied into position for take-off. Mamushi took her seat and buckled in, her mind racing as she stared out the window. She had discovered something rather interesting this morning. Bruce Wayne had a dark side. She had seen, and felt it. The question was, how deep did it go and what secrets did that darkness hide?

Back in the terminal the two guards turned to seize the luggage from Alfred, only to find that the older man had disappeared. Cursing their bad luck at having drawn this assignment to begin with, the two were now left with the dilemma of having to explain how they had failed to carry it out.

****

Mamushi stared out the window of the jet but seemed not to see anything beyond the glass. Bruce Wayne's dark side had slipped from her thoughts for the moment, being replaced by thoughts of what had happened inside the terminal with the two guards. Someone had called them. That was the only way that they could have singled her out like that. She was almost positive she knew who and why. That meant that her worse fear had come. Oban had turned on her. Now she was on her own, with an entire organization out to get her. They wanted her dead. The airport had merely been a distraction, or a way for them to disarm her in an attempt to make it easier to take her out. She was now a target, which meant that they would do anything to get rid of her. Because of her skill they would not worry as much about collateral damage as they would normally. That meant that anyone near her was in danger, including Mr. Wayne.

She shook her head at the thought. He had always been in danger, and up until now it was her who was the danger to him. So why was it that all of a sudden his safety, or lack thereof, mattered to her?

~He is my mark,~ she though, ~Mine to kill, no one else's.~

Yet, even as the words echoed in her mind she knew they were a lie. Yes, she had planned on killing him in the beginning, but about six months into the assignment she had realized that she could not. She would not allow him to become another Sparks. She had spent the last three months trying to convince herself and others that she could do the job, but she was now painfully aware that she had only been fooling herself.

She heaved a sigh and pulled her gaze from the passing clouds, only to have them settle on Bruce Wayne. She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his features. She had no idea what she was looking for, perhaps some sign or something to tell her that he was worth it. She was literally giving up her life to save his and she had no idea if she could even do it. Could she be his bodyguard without him knowing it?

She knew that she wanted to. She wanted to make sure he made it through this alive, that they both made it through alive. Problem was that in order to be sure of that she not only had to take out Oban, she also had to find the money.

Mamushi stifled a yawn, hands coming up to rub at her eyes. The logistics of this kind of undertaking were mind boggling, but the only other option would be to go to Mr. Wayne and tell him everything. That was out of the question though. Not because of Mushi's sense of honor, but more because of the fact that he would remove her from the situation. She couldn't let that happen. He had a better chance of getting through this alive if she were watching his back. That, and she didn't think she could bear to see the look on his face if he ever found out who and what she really was.

****

Bruce sat through the lift off, berating himself for failing to stay in character as the aloof and carefree Mr. Wayne. He should not have acted so demonstrably, nor should he have lain a rough hand on Mamushi. It served the situation well enough, but it was out of his very carefully cultivated Bruce Wayne persona. He took a deep breath, let it go, and meditated until the plane was safely off the runway.

Once the plane was stable, a long haired blond beauty in high heels and a plunging neckline came back to see if he needed service of any kind, with an emphasis on 'any'. Bruce smiled and shook his head. Even if things in the airport had gone well, such indulgences should not have been expected on this flight.

"Actually," he added, "Ms. Keishi and I are not to be disturbed until we are ready to land. Anything we need from the galley or bar we will see to ourselves."

"Very good, Mr. Wayne," the stewardess replied, her pleasant facade firmly in place. Bruce rose to see her out of the cabin and locked the door after her.

Mamushi watched Bruce's interaction with the stewardess and couldn't help but frown. Something was going on here, something that she didn't like. Bruce had never locked the cabin door before on a flight. Even if he was sleeping he had left the door unlocked so that they could reach him if they needed to. Something was wrong, and it made Mamushi squirm slightly in her seat. She had a pretty good idea what this was about, but she planned to play the usual demure and oblivious. She doubted he would buy the 'oblivious' act, but she had to keep up appearances.

"Something wrong?" she asked softly, knowing for a fact that there was.

Bruce looked at Mamushi out of the corner of his eye while he poured himself a scotch and water. As he managed the liquids in their secured places, he considered his words.

"Yes, there is something very wrong, and I would like you to tell me about it," he asked simply, but continued before she could respond.

"You've been unusually stressed lately." He didn't mention her conversation with Alfred. She didn't need to know that Alfred held no secrets from him. "You nearly broke down last night. This morning, you were far late, a first for you. Alone, that isn't an issue. However, there was a man snooping around your complex today that seemed interested in your apartment, and you were singled out before you ever got to the airport. Something's going on, and I would like to know about it before we land. I'd rather avoid as many other 'coincidences' as possible."

Before he took a sip from his own drink, he made a slight bow to her. "Pardon me. Would you like something to drink?"

She considered asking for something stiff, but chose not too. She had to be in control of her facilities at all times, especially now. His life, and hers, depended on it.

"Just a glass of water thank you," she responded.

She watched as he prepared the drink and gave it to her. She thanked him and took a sip before returning her attention to him. He was awaiting her answer, studying her features to figure out if he would believe her or not. This should be easy for her, but for some reason she found it very hard.

"I do not know what to tell you," she said softly with a shrug, "I would love to tell you that it is a coincidence but I don't know that for sure."

Bruce sniffed the sweet, musky scent of his drink before taking another sip. It wasn't strong, but he had hoped by choosing an alcoholic beverage, she would have followed suit. However, he had never seen her drink alcohol before, so it could simply be that she did not indulge. There were certainly worse habits. He had also never detected a smell of smoke that he could link to her, and he bet her taxes were all perfectly in order.

"Mamushi, if there is a problem, any problem at all, I can help. If I can't manage it personally, I certainly have the resources to make sure it happens. However, you have to let me know how I can help. For all my money, I simply can't pluck it out of your mind. I want to help you, but you have to let me."

Mamushi's features did not change, but her eyes darkened slightly. She wanted to tell him, desperately, but she couldn't bear to see the look on his face when he found out the truth. Not to mention the fact that it would put him in more danger, and her as well. How did she brush it off without making it seem as if she were brushing it off? She could handle herself, and his constant want to help her in one way or another made her wonder about that dark side of his. What did he do with that darkness?

"I am fine," she lied, choosing her words very carefully, "You have seen my resume, and I have no doubt you have looked into my past. The only thing I can tell you is that my first husband was a part of the Mob. However, I was never a part of that life. So there is no reason that anyone would be coming after me."

She had to throw him a bone, so she chose that one. It was true, and it would even add a bit of plausible deniability to her story. Yakuza was Mob, she could claim innocence if he found out who was after her. Claim that it had to be from her late husband. She hated using Kevin like that but it was necessary at the moment.

Bruce looked at her for a long, cold moment. Again, he seemed to forget himself, and his face shifted into the cold, hard mask the Batman wore when he had to face an unpleasant fact. Catching himself, he took another sip from his drink, the pleasantly neutral face of Bruce Wayne clearly in place when the glass was removed. As intelligent as she was, with her attention focused on him, it was inconceivable that she failed to note the out-of-place expression. However, he couldn't well take it back, nor explain it away without likely tangling himself in her intellect. He would have to let it go, and let her think what she would.

Bruce didn't believe her. He wanted to, but his gut told him she was lying. He didn't know why, nor exactly about what, but she was covering something up. Yes, her first husband had been in the Mafia, but he had died five years ago. If the Mafia had a concern about her, it would likely have been taken care of some time ago. However, Wayne Enterprises had certainly pissed in enough people's Wheaties for him, its head, to garner their attention.

The Mafia could be seeking her out because of past affiliations with her, despite her not having any official ties to them, to get to him. Or, they could have sent her. That made more sense, but he didn't like what it meant.

"Okay," Bruce said, setting his drink aside. "I can have that looked into and arrange for you to have extra security until we come up with a better answer."

Mamushi had to concentrate very hard not to choke on her drink. The last thing she needed was security. Not only would they get in the way, they may hear things they should not and they would limit her movement. If her movement was limited to such a degree then she would be unable to truly protect him. That was not acceptable. His safety was paramount, above all else.

For a moment she wondered when she had become so solid in her conviction that he stay alive. In that same moment she filed away the coldness that came over his features only moments before. In those few seconds she had actually believed that he could and would hurt her if she angered him. That made her wonder if this truly was the right decision.

There was still the fact of his touch though. That was what was driving her decision. He did not make her sick. When his hand touched hers she did not feel cold, or nauseous, or endangered. She felt warm, comforted, even cared for. That was why, that was the reason why she was doing this.

"Don't you think a security contingent is a little rash?" she asked calmly, choosing her words carefully, "I admit that I am flattered by your concern for my safety, but taking such a step seems somehow...overdone. As if you're trying to plug a pinhole in a damn with a boulder."

Bruce's first thought was a boulder might not be big enough. However, as convinced as he was that she was not being honest with him, he truly did want to protect her if even from herself. Earlier words from Alfred about how the elder man had seen them together came unbidden to his mind, and he actually blushed. There were times, rare though they were, that he wished Alfred would just mind his own business.

He looked at his drink, and then back at her, apparently blaming the alcohol for his sudden flush of color. "I'll make a bargain with you. I'll give you a panic button you can carry. It is tied in with GPS and a street level map of 93 percent of the urban world. Press the button, and it will alert security to your real time coordinates, absolute, relative, and in reference to the known mapping programs. I promise you, though, the device is completely inert until activated. Nobody will be able to track you by it until and unless it is activated. Part of my bargain includes that you carry it with you at all times. Acceptable?"

She considered his words, mulling them over in her head. She wondered at his reasons for assuring her that the device would be inert until activated. He suspected something, that much she knew. Question was what, and how much. She wanted to ask him, but let it slide. He was suspicious enough, she could tell, no need to make him more so.

"All right," she said finally with a single nod, setting her now empty glass on the small table next to her, "A panic button is acceptable."

She saw no harm in carrying such a device around. It would give her the privacy she needed to keep him safe but give him the piece of mine he seemed to need. It was not foolproof, nothing was, but it was acceptable to both of them. She had no true way of knowing if it was inert save his word, and he would have to rely on her pressing the button in order for it to work. This was a level of trust that she had never shown to anyone, a level she had not even allowed anyone to have before. It almost scared her. Almost.

"Excellent!" Bruce said with a smile, setting his unfinished glass to the side. "I should be able to have it to you by dinner tonight."

He was glad she hadn't pressed on how the device could be activated. He didn't want to have to admit to her that it could be activated remotely. Then again, he had no real way of knowing she would carry the device when he wasn't around. It was an agreement based on faith, and he believed she would hold to her end, for whatever reasons she had. Likewise, he would uphold the spirit of the arrangement, and not remotely activate it. Unless he had reason to believe she was in imminent danger, he allowed.

"Now, Grummond Biotech has done revolutionary ideas not only on using synchro/servo systems in prosthetics, but they are also pioneering a method to wire these directly into the nervous system. The implications of this are... well, astounding. The good that can be done with this technology is almost limitless, but it has military applications as well. If we can cement an alliance with Grummond, that will be a first big step in controlling how this is used, as well as making sure it is as widely available to those who legitimately need it as possible."

****


	9. Chapter 9

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 9**

Mamushi stepped out of the elevator onto the tenth floor of the hotel, the bellhop right behind her. She was on her way to the two bedroom suite she shared with Bruce after a wonderful dinner and a bit of time shopping in order to replace the things that had to be left at home. Bruce had accompanied her to both dinner and the shopping (since he was paying the bill for both) but had parted ways with her in the Hotel Lobby. Apparently he had seen an old acquaintance in the bar and wanted to say hello. Mamushi had no problem with that, she was actually kind of glad. He had been at her side nonstop since they had boarded the plane. She felt almost like he was hovering over her, but she knew he was just worried about her safety. He had probably only let her go in the lobby because he had given her the panic button at dinner.

Without thinking she ran her thumb along the side of the small device. It was two inches long by an inch wide and less than half an inch thick. It was small and unobtrusive, and quite unnoticeable. Most would think nothing of it, but Bruce had made it quite clear that the small device could save her life. It had almost made her laugh, but she hid it well. She had enough skills to take care of herself so the panic button was actually only to make Bruce feel better. Mamushi had no intention of ever using it. Still, it kept him from sicking a security contingent on her.

She pulled out her key card as she approached the room, her hands emptied only because the bellhop had almost insisted on carrying her bags up. Telling him no had become a mute point when she had tried to call the elevator and had been unable to because of the bags. So, she had consented with a polite nod. He had seemed overjoyed by the consent, giving her a beaming smile as he had stepped into the elevator beside her. Even now he was still beaming, it was creepy.

She got to the door and used the key card to gain entrance, then turned to the bellhop and reached out for the bags while her foot held the door open. He gave a polite nod and handed over the bags before bowing slightly and moving back down the hall towards the elevator. Mamushi watched him go for a few moments before shaking her head and moving into the suite.

The door clicked closed behind her as she moved into the room, shutting off the light from the hallway and plunging the suite into almost total darkness. A small amount of light shone in through the windows, mostly from the full moon, giving the room a bit of a silvery glow. It was enough for Mamushi to see by as she made her way across the room towards the large dinning room table that sat in an alcove. She set the bags on the table and then turned towards her room. She figured she would wait until Bruce got back before she went through anything.

She was about halfway across the living room area when she felt it. There was a shift in the air, movement behind her. On instinct she ducked and turned, going down on one knee in order to be under any blows that may be struck. She felt the air over her head move and knew that she had avoided a strike, though whether it was a punch or something else she was not sure.

She placed her hands flat on the floor and kicked to the right, connecting with the assailant's knees. There was a dull crack, a howl of pain and the man went down. Mamushi did not get up though, choosing instead to stay close to the ground as she checked the room over again. As her eyes searched the darkness she saw a flash of light on metal and dodged to the left. It wasn't fast enough. The blade came down quickly, striking her right forearm and biting in. She gave a groan of pain but did not cry out. She moved away as fast as she could, twisting her arm in such a way that the assailant could not pull the blade free of her flesh. It hurt like hell, but she did not allow the pain to show.

She stood up a few feet away, and almost instantly was grabbed from behind. Strong arms went around her shoulders, attempting to hold her. Before they could move down and prevent her from moving she raised her arms, dislodging the hold and stepping far enough away that he could not grab her again. They were all men, she could tell by the way they moved and the way that they smelled. So far she had counted three. One was all ready down with a broken leg, but she still had the other two to contend with.

She could now see their silhouettes in the darkness, one to her right and one to her left. She could tell from the way that they moved that they were attempting to box her in, back her into the wall so she had no way out. She couldn't allow that. If they got her against a wall she was dead. Reaching down she pulled the blade from her forearm, cringing slightly at the pain. In the wane light she examined the blade as closely as she could. It was a Tanto, thick and long. That meant that she would need stitches for the wound, but it also meant that she could use the blade against them.

As they moved closer she backed up, her instincts telling her to get as far away from them as possible. Still, she knew that if she continued to back up they would have what they wanted. She had to do something, question was what. As her mind raced to think she took another step back and tripped over the first man, landing flat on her back on the floor. He howled in pain again and moved to protect his broken knee. She was distracted by his howling long enough for one of the other two to jump on top of her. He got his hands around her throat and began to squeeze. Mamushi gasped for breath, her first instinct to claw at his hands and try to get him to let go, but training took over the instant she remembered the Tanto in her hand. Her moves were smooth and swift, twisting the blade in her hand and jabbing upward with it. The man on top of her gasped and his grip loosened. She shoved him off of her and backed away, trying to get to her feet. She used the wall as leverage, pulling herself up and leaving bloody hand prints on the white paint as she did.

The last man grabbed her from behind again, this time bringing a blade to her throat. He had it pressed to her neck, ready to slice through her flesh when the door to the suite opened. The man looked up startled and Mamushi took advantage of his distraction. Using her good hand she pushed the blade as far away from her throat as she could and then elbowed the man in the stomach with the wounded arm. He grunted and hunched over as she gripped his arm and pulled him over her shoulder to land on the floor at her feet. Pulling back her left arm she landed a blow to the center of his chest, knocking the air out of him before she punched him in the head. His body went limp on the floor and Mamushi stepped away from it, her eyes going to the person who stood in the doorway.

She stood in the arch of light from the hallway, her right arm bleeding, her clothing disheveled and her hands covered in blood staring directly at Bruce Wayne.

Bruce took in the scene before him in detail, automatically assessing threats and piecing together a decent picture of what had happened. The remains of the fight was far from what he'd expected, and seeing Mamushi standing over three apparently armed men added considerably to his amazement, as well as his trepidation. He did not seem shocked, however, but definitely concerned.

He moved into the room, obviously familiar with the layout, and went straight into the bathroom, not making a sound until after the door had banged open forcefully. He quickly checked the shower, then headed back out into the main room, his coat already dropped as he ripped his shirt from his body.

"Are you all right," he asked, handing her the shirt. His path kept him out of arm's reach of the assailants, though he hardly seemed to notice them, except for a lingering glance at the tanto in one's chest.

"Where are you hurt?"

As he asked, he flipped open a cell-phone and quickly initiated a call.

Mamushi took the shirt and simply stared at it for a moment. She had no idea why he had handed it to her, until she remembered the cut in her arm. Her adrenalin had been so high that it had completely dulled the pain. Almost absently she looked down at her arm and realizing that it was still bleeding.

"Yeah," she said softly, "One of them stabbed me."

She stared at the wound absently for a few moments before she began shrugging out of her jacket, leaving her in only the black camisole and her slacks. She absently dropped the jacket on the back of a chair, but did not move from where she stood. She seemed lost, disoriented. For some reason she felt as if she were disjointed, her mind separated from her body, and yet she had not consciously done so. Still, she had to admit it was possible. She had been attacked. No one had ever attacked her before.

"Did I kill them?" she asked, her eyes glancing at Bruce but not seeming to see him.

Bruce switched the phone to speaker; it took a minute for it to connect and then began ringing. In the meantime, Bruce studied Mamushi for just a moment, assessing for himself that she was only obviously bleeding from her arm. He set the phone on a chair, then took her arm in his hands, applying pressure to the wound while he wrapped the shirt around it and then lifting it up into the air. "Keep that up, and keep the pressure on it. It doesn't look bad."

He turned his eyes back to the assailants. The man with the broken leg was trying to reach for something. Bruce didn't wait to see what it was. He kicked the man on the point of his jaw, likely breaking something in the man's face from the sound of the blow, but he was no longer conscious to worry about it.

"Not all of them," he replied.

He bent over the stabbed one, his fingers going to the man's throat, searching out a pulse. His face darkened when he didn't find one. As he moved to the third man, the phone picked up.

The Mandarin in Munich, a male voice answered in German.

Bruce replied in kind, almost yelling across the room to the phone, This is Bruce Wayne, Room 412. My assistant has been attacked in our suite. I need security up here now. At least one of the attackers is dead.

The phone was silent for a moment, and Bruce spoke louder, Get up here! Or I'll bring the bodies down to you!

After another brief pause, the voice answered, Right away, sir. Room 4...?

412! Room 4 - 1 - 2!

Right away, sir!

Mamushi did as she was told with the arm, holding it up and keeping pressure where he told her too. She watched as he checked the men, her eyes still not seeming to see him. It was hard for her to focus now, her eyes fuzzing in and out as the adrenaline began to dissipate. Her arm was beginning to hurt now, the pain throbbing through her as she tried to keep the arm aloft.

It was all starting to come back now, her senses and her personality beginning to come back. Her mind raced, her eyes darting across the room at the men and then down to where Bruce crouched on the floor.

"They attacked me," she said softly, her eyes widening, "They attacked me! I never saw it coming. I should have seen it coming. Why didn't I see it coming?"

Bruce checked the third man as Mamushi seemed to come to her senses. He was alive. He looked up at her, his brow furrowed, but before he spoke, he returned to his phone, shut it off, then put it away.

"Why should you have seen the attack coming, Mamushi?" he asked in a low, calm tone. His posture told her he was listening to her, that everything would be all right, that she had his undivided attention. It was a trained response, and it was a lie. He was certainly listening to her, but every sense was acute, straining, waiting for the other foot to fall, to catch the second wave off guard, if there was to be a second wave. It wasn't a lie to her so much as to any others that might be watching.

"Do you know who these men are and why they attacked you?"

His words snapped her back to the present, to the fact that he did not know the truth about her and that if he did he would more than likely kill her himself. She wanted to believe that he was incapable of that, but the outburst in the airport had made her rethink her ideas of him. Even now he seemed ready, prepared for a fight. He seemed relaxed, but she could see the tension in his body, the readiness.

She pulled her eyes from him, looking at the men on the floor. She saw their faces for the first time, studying them before shaking her head.

"I don't know them," she said softly.

Her knees suddenly felt weak, wobbly. She looked around for somewhere to set, finally settling on the chair that her jacket was hung over. She sank into the seat with a bit of a sigh, her eyes falling as she continued to hold the arm as he had instructed.

"I don't know why," she said softly, shaking her head, "But I should have known that they were here, that something was wrong. The bell hop was acting funny, but I ignored it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze going to the tanto again. It appeared that he almost started to bend down to it, his hand opening to take the hilt, but he stopped with a slight shake of his head. He would have to trust the local authorities in this.

He moved over to stand behind her. There was nothing specific that could be pointed out, but somehow his movements were similar to a predator, stalking after what might prove to be prey. With a gentle but firm grip, he grasped the wrist of her wounded arm with his left hand, taking the burden of keeping it aloft from her. His right went to the makeshift bandage, pulling it back briefly to examine the wound.

"Clean," he said under his breath, and moved his face over the wound, sniffing at it. Apparently satisfied, he returned the cloth to it, pressing it firmly against the wound.

"It will have to be cleaned, and you will need stitches. Are you sure that you don't know why you were targeted for this attack?"

She winced slightly as he grasped her wrist, noting the firmness of his grip despite the seeming gentleness of it. Oh yes, there was much more to Bruce Wayne than he let on. She could see it now in the way that he inspected the wound, the way he looked at her and the way that he almost seemed to stalk her. She could not give him what he wanted though. In honesty she did not know why they attacked her, but she suspected. The attackers had not said anything to her, so all she had were suspicions. She could not tell him her suspicions because he would know the truth about her. She couldn't allow that.

"No," she said, meeting his eyes steadily without flinching, "I do not know."

Bruce suppressed a sigh, but the tension in his hands gave his frustration away. He wasn't accustomed to questioning a person while rendering aid to them, or touching them in any sort of a gentle or caring way. His alter ego didn't work that way. In fact, the Batman rarely gave aid to those he needed to question. It would undermine that legend that was the Batman.

He looked to the door, wondering what was taking the hotel people so long. However, he was more thankful than annoyed. He was glad to have time alone with Mamushi at this time. He was convinced she knew something, or at least had suspicions about the attack. That she refused to satisfy his curiosity to any degree irritated him and made him wonder what she was hiding.

"Do you believe there is a connection between this attack and what happened at the airport, or to the man watching your apartment this morning?"

Mamushi frowned up at him, her eyes darkening slightly at his words. The tension in his hands told her that he needed answers, he needed the truth. She felt compelled to give it to him, more because of her honor than anything else.

"Yes," she said through the scowl, her voice little more than a whisper, "I do believe there is a connection."

She prayed that he would stop asking questions now, but knew that he would not. It was like giving a drop of water to a thirsty man. A single drop is never enough.

It was hard to tell if the admission pleased Bruce or not. A part of him had hoped he was wrong, had hoped that she was an innocent in a bizarre set of circumstances. That part had just collapsed, though the only outward sign was a faint flicker in his eyes, and perhaps the slightest change in his breathing. He nodded, and though he was not in easy sight of her, he expected she had caught the gesture.

"So do I," he agreed. She had skirted around his questions, but that one she answered. She offered little more than the answer, except that she was loath to give it. He wasn't sure why she had offered it, however. There were myriad possible reasons, but two stood out to him; either she was trying to lead him somewhere, or she was answering the questions according to some code or system of honor.

He wanted to believe the latter, but could not fully embrace the possibility without more information. He went back to his earlier suspicions, that perhaps she was not their entirely of her own free will. If she had failed in something, for someone of a particular frame of mind, an order for her death could be an appropriate response.

Before he could ask the next question, however, the manager and an assistant entered, there mouths making almost comical "o's" as they took in the scene.

What happened? the manager asked.

Bruce's grip on Mamushi's wrist tightened slightly as he spoke up, hoping she would take his hint at least for the moment.

She was attacked, defended herself, and was wounded in the process. Have you notified the police and an ambulance?

The manager was dumbfounded for a moment, and the assistant spoke up, The police have been notified of the attack. Medical help is on the way. How can we help?

For the moment, Bruce replied, step out of the room, close the door, and wait for the proper authorities to arrive. Please, let no one in who does not have a valid reason to be here.

The manager nodded, then shook his head. What about them? he asked, pointing to the men on the floor, And is she all right?

The one growing the knife out of his chest is dead, Bruce answered, and the other two are unconscious.

His grip on Mamushi's arm relaxed slightly, and he just barely nudged her chair with his leg, waiting for her to answer about herself.

Mamushi was very good at reading signals, so much so that Bruce hadn't really needed to signal her. She knew her part, and she played it well. Silently she sat next to him, her eyes focused on the men in front of them as she listened to the conversation. When the manager asked about her and Bruce loosened his grip, she gave a slight nod. She did not need the almost unobserved kick to her chair, but he felt the need to give it so she would not say anything about it.

I am fine, she answered in perfect German, My wound is not life threatening and at the moment we have stopped the blood flow.

The manager seemed to be satisfied with her answer, nodding with a final look at Bruce before he turned and left the room. The assistant followed behind him, giving a sympathetic look to Mamushi as well as Bruce before the door closed slightly behind them. Mamushi sat in the silence, comforted by the feeling of Bruce's fingers wrapped around her wrist. She was beginning to believe that if he wanted to he could break her arm with that gentle grip, but she did not believe he would do it. Not unless she gave him reason.

~The manager thinks you did this,~ she said softly, this time in Japanese, ~He will try to blame it on you.~

They both knew that Bruce had nothing to do with it, but telling that to the cops was another story and another headache all together.

~It's convenient to believe so,~ he responded, matching her language. He smiled slightly that she had thought to switch to it, but the thought also worried him. Although she was far from common, he wasn't sure he would have expected such a ploy from her. After a moment's though, he dismissed that suspicion. It was a ploy they had used in business meetings before.

"My prints are on the door handle coming into the room, the bathroom door handle, and the blow to the man's chin might be able to be traced to me. I've had no physical contact with the blade, nor with anything else in the room. I doubt the authorities will try to hold me, though they may seek to limit my freedom of movement."

He didn't mention that the thought of armed guards, even if they were the police, bothered him. He didn't need them, want them, or trust them. Still, if they insisted, he would have little choice but to accept. On the other hand, the risk of him evading the authorities was not that great. Really, were could your average billionaire hide?

He used the few moments they had remaining to them to follow his train of questioning before they had been interrupted. ~Were you instructed to gain employment as my Personal Assistant?~ he asked, going back to Japanese.

Mamushi almost groaned, but was able to keep it in somehow. If he kept this up he would have the whole truth by the end of the night and she would either be dead or in prison. She knew she had to answer the question, but this time she did not want to face him, did not want to see the look in his eyes when he heard the truth from her lips.

~Yes.~

The answer was simple, but it was said with shame and an edge of panic to her voice. She hung her head as she said it, her eyes picking a spot on the carpet and staring at it as if it would give her the answers and a way out of this mess. Still, she knew that no matter how much she squirmed there was no way out of this mess, and as his fingers continued to hold her wrist she was not truly sure that she wanted a way out.

Bruce's reaction was almost non-existent, apart from his grip on her wrist becoming subtly firmer. Not stronger, just more prepared to use the hold to counter a move she might make. Her answer had been what he had expected, it was the answer that made the most sense. That she gave it meant something to him, however, and that she showed shame in doing so was also considered in his assessment. He felt betrayed, to be sure, but he was not ready to turn her away. For one, she still held answers that he needed, but more than that, she was an extremely capable person, one he had come to respect. There were possibly circumstances that could explain the situation.

He also became aware of a new possibility: the attack could have been staged, to help her gain his trust. However, why would she be forthcoming with answers if that were the case? An attack could have been intended to divert attention away from her, but if so, it had obviously not worked.

He considered the questions she had answered and how she had answered them. Direct, to the point, and without embellishment. At least, that was the best he could guess at the moment. A truthful answer could be useless if the question was not carefully worded. Baby steps, one point at a time, and no assumptions.

~Who instructed you to gain employment as my Personal Assistant?~

The last question agitated her, frustrated her and came very close to pissing her off. She had felt his grip become firmer and knew that she had just lost his trust. She couldn't take it, couldn't set there and answer all his questions. She didn't want him to know, couldn't bear for him to know.

~Damned it Bruce,~ she snapped, pushing to her feet and turning to face him. She did not try to wrest her wrist from his grasp, nor did she try to pull away from him. He wanted information from her, that was probably the only reason he was still standing there, and she knew that if she tried to get away from him whatever suspicions were roaming through his head would be proven right in his eyes.

~I can't tell you,~ she hissed, shame and anger in her eyes as they met his, ~I'm in enough trouble as it is. This..~ she gestured to the men on the floor, ~Is just the first wave. If they find out I told you anything I won't be the only one on their list, they will add you to it as well. I won't let that happen.~

She had taken his place on that list, but only for a short period of time. Once she was gone his name would go back up to the top and they would send another to finish her job. She had to protect him and it had now become very clear what that could cost her.

Bruce watched her every movement with close scrutiny. The way that she was able to move within his grip told him that she likely was still in it because she chose to be, and gave him a better indication of her training. It was obvious that she was more than she seemed, but he was beginning to wonder just how much more.

His eyes flashed with anger matching hers, possibly exceeding it. His face briefly flashed with the coldness only the Batman could give, but he held his tongue. He wanted to tell her she didn't know what trouble was, but coming from Bruce Wayne, it would have been empty words.

Instead, he drew in a deep breath and let it go. He adjusted his hand on her wrist, taking some of the pressure from it, and checked under the cloth. It still seeped blood, and her movement hadn't helped it any, but it wasn't a threat to her.

~We'll assume you're telling me the truth. I feel it is a fairly bold assumption to make, but until I have reason to believe otherwise, we'll go with it. It is a simple fact that you cannot face wave after wave forever. At some point, through exhaustion or mere humanity, you make a mistake, and one is all it takes. So, if you can't stay on the defensive, you have to go on the offensive. But, I can't let you just go out and start killing people. There has to be a head to this...~ he paused, and bowed slightly to her.

~If you'll pardon the expression, there had to be a head to this viper. How can I help you decapitate it?~

She heaved an exasperated sigh, her eyes darkening at his comment about him not believing her. That had hurt, but she had to admit that she deserved it. Lying was a part of her job, it was something that she did to survive. Up until recently it had been second nature, like breathing. Now it felt like a curse and one that may just get them both killed. If he didn't believe her, they were both in a lot of trouble.

~I don't know,~ she said with a heavy sigh, twisting her wrist from his grasp and plopping back down into the chair, ~I can't do anything about this until we get back to the states. For now we're stuck here with this mess and no real way to avoid it.~

She had not missed his play on her name, but she waved it off as if it had not been said. Slumping back in the chair she looked over at the three men who still lay unconscious on the floor. They should have known better than to come after her, Oban should have known better. Bruce may not want her to go out and start killing people but the way she looked at it right now that was the only option. Get to them before they get to you. However, she was keenly aware that it was that thinking exactly that had gotten Sparks killed.

"Baka," she mumbled under her breath, her eyes closing as she leaned her head back in the chair, ignoring the throbbing as it came back into her wrist.

"Keep the pressure on it," he advised. He had not fought her getting free of his grip. She was certainly capable of threatening him, if she had chosen to do so. The fact that she had finished - and won - the fight with that wound attested a great deal to her abilities. However, she hadn't.

Bruce knew that didn't mean she wouldn't, but he had basically offered himself up to her on the previous night, and she had refused. The whole issue was confusing. She was here for a reason, a reason that she was apparently failing at. It seemed that she was not here to harm him physically, or at least she had not done so.

Had she been supposed to throw a meeting, or botch a deal somewhere? Possible, especially considering his renown for being absent, but she hadn't done that, either. She was here for some reason, a reason that apparently put her life at risk, and as far as he could tell she had not accomplished it. The obvious conclusion was that the fight had been a ruse to gain her his trust. Another possibility, however remote, was that she had decided not to fulfill her mission, and now her life would be forfeit for it, without intervention. Intervention that Bruce Wayne could not easily provide.

Whatever she was up to, she was playing a dangerous game. He could do so as well. He moved around before her, sitting on his heels to be closer to eye-level with her. ~We can forestall the meeting. Given the situation, I am sure it would be forgiven. We'll still have to answer some questions here, but we should be able to be in the air tomorrow morning. I think my people should be able to keep us safe until then.~

He paused, and decided he needed to be as truthful with her as he could. ~I don't yet know why you are here, what brought you here, or what your mission was. I intend to find out, but that can wait. For whatever reason, it seems you have not succeeded in your mission. I think it is because you chose not to.

~At some point, you're going to have to level with me. I expect that of you. Up to now, you have shown yourself to be an honorable person. I know that circumstances can make you do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy. But, here's my offer. For now, we stay together, watch out for one another, and make getting back to the States a priority. I have more options there, and it seems you do as well. Once we get there, and have a little more security, we can sit down and figure out what to do next.

~You need to know that I am not dropping anything or letting anything go, I am just setting them aside for the moment. Are you with me?~

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded her consent. It was the best she was going to get at the moment. At least he promised to not push things any further. That was a start because she was not sure how much longer she could avoid answering his questions. She could see the suspicion in his eyes even now, the fact that he didn't trust her and knew that whatever reason she was here did not bode well for him.

Without thinking she reached out, her fingers brushing his bare shoulders and then running slowly down his bicep as she sat forward. Their noses were almost touching when she stopped, her hand resting at the inside of his elbow as her eyes met his. She searched those eyes, trying to find the words to say what she wanted to say and trying to let him see the truth of her words in her eyes.

~You are in no danger from me,~ she whispered, her fingers caressing his arm softly as she spoke, ~And neither is your company. The only job that matters to me right now is the one I do for you, for Wayne Enterprises.~

She grew silent, her eyes still locked with his as she sought for the right words to say next. There were so many things she wanted to say, to ask, and yet at that moment only one thing came to mind.

~Please, don't throw me away.~

Bruce felt the delicate warmth of her touch. His training and paranoia screamed at him to counter the move, to guard against her, but his instincts told him to trust her. He hated having his training and his instincts in conflict, but had learned long ago to bow to his instincts. He did not look away, flinch, or even blink at her touch. He accepted it, and even enjoyed it in a far off manner.

Her aroma filled his senses as she leaned forward. He could almost feel the warmth of her skin so close to his. His eyes drank in hers. Studying her, a hardness that he had not felt before faded form his gaze. She was a woman before him, desperate for him to have faith in her.

Her fingers traced across his arm; unbidden, his hand rose, found her shoulder and traced its shape, its round firmness. Her words about current focus floated across his mind. He accepted them simply and without argument, though somewhere in his mind he asked himself when that would change. It was her next words that caught him and gave him pause.

He reached out and took both of her shoulders in his hands, noticing for the first time that neither of their attire was entirely appropriate. He brushed her hair back from her face as he formed his words in his mind.

~I don't throw people away. Not talented, daring, and exhilarating people; not dull, cautious, and plodding people. However, I don't keep people I can't trust. Help me trust you, and I promise, I won't throw you away. I will do everything in my power to help and protect you. Whatever it takes. But I need to be able to trust you first.~

He drew his right hand from her shoulder and gently covered her lips with it, stopping her from speaking. ~Right now, we're good. I have your back; you have mine. Tomorrow's problems are tomorrows, and we'll deal with them then.~

He moved his hand out of the way and started to kiss her when the door opened. The police entered, one officer holding the medical professionals outside until the scene was secure.

With a sigh, Bruce caressed her cheek, and whispered to her, "I promise."

****


	10. Chapter 10

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 10**

Mamushi stood under the hot water and breathed a pleased sigh of relief. The blood had finally been washed down the drain, and the heat from the water had taken care of the chill that had settled into her skin during the interrogation. She had told the cops her story twice, the first time during which the meds had sewn up her arm. She had gotten six stitches and they had given her some pain meds. She wouldn't take them though, just because they would dull her senses just as much as they did her pain.

Once the meds had finished the Cops had tried to get her story from her again but she had clammed up, using her training to ignore their jabs at her as well as their attempts to intimidate her. They had nothing, she knew that, and knew that what she had told them would be proven when the forensics came in. Still, they were reluctant to let her and Bruce go, so much so that once they finally did Bruce went straight to the American Embassy and requested they spend the night there. Seeing that both he and Mamushi were American citizens the request was granted, albeit grudgingly. It seemed that there was a party going on and most of the rooms were occupied for the night. They had managed to find a single room with a queen sized bed, but that was it. Mamushi was not complaining though. She would sleep better here than she would have at any hotel.

She heaved another sigh and reached down to turn off the water, allowing her body to drip dry for a few moments before she pushed back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. She dried herself off and retrieved the nightgown she had bought for herself on their earlier shopping trip. The cops had allowed them to take the items with them only after confirming that there was nothing of importance either in or on them.

Mamushi slipped the black silk, floor length nightgown over her head and straightened the small straps on her shoulders. Not the most appropriate thing to wear to bed given the current situation, but it was better than nothing. She took a few seconds to towel dry her hair and then put on the matching robe that came with the nightgown. Satisfied that she had done all she could at the moment she hung the towel on the shower rod and picked up the small dagger from the sink before leaving the bathroom.

As she entered the bedroom she laid the dagger down on the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to the window. She wasn't sure which side she was going to sleep on but she was not about to put an unsheathed dagger in the pocket of her robe. The blade was only three inches long but that was long enough to cut a hole in the pocket. She realized that she didn't care if Bruce knew she had it, which was a strange thing. Usually she went out of her way to make sure no one knew she was armed. So much so that the small, simple blade had a permanent home between her breasts. Each of her bras had been modified to hide the small thing in such a way that no one would know it was there and to look at the bra without it you would never notice where it went. It was not long enough to kill, but long enough to cause damage and make someone think twice before they tried anything.

After setting the dagger on the bedside table she moved over to the small setting area near the window and began working on her hair, combing it as she did every night before bed.

Bruce sat at the desk working on the laptop Mamushi had picked up for him. There wasn't a lot he could do, without access to his records, but he was able to monitor the news and contact the other principles of the meeting that was to take place tomorrow. Without going into too much detail, he let them know the conference was going to be delayed, and set a tentative date to reconvene it. He stipulated the meeting would be in the US and explained that Wayne Enterprises, in recompense for the inconvenience, would cover the expenses.

He hadn't really wanted to call on the Embassy, but the alternative was to submit to protection by the local authorities. Whoever was after Mamushi had already ferreted out where they would be staying and bypassed the hotel security to set the ambush. From what she had said, it appeared the Bellhop had been either a part of it or had been compromised as well. There was no telling how far they had infiltrated the area. Not knowing who was after her, or why, severely limited his options.

The Embassy seemed to be an unexpected tact, and was certainly more difficult to infiltrate. While they had been separated for interrogation, he'd talked his way into contacting Alfred, who in turn had contacted Senator Obama to make sure there would be a room available for them. From the difficulties they had encountered at the Embassy, Bruce was unsure if Alfred had reached the senator or not; he would look into it and thank the senator for his efforts regardless.

Bruce had washed up in a common restroom while Mamushi cleaned the blood from herself. She had obviously needed the shower more than he did, and his lifestyle made using whatever facilities were available a common practice. He wore black silk pajama bottoms under a midnight blue robe that had fallen open.

He looked up to see Mamushi emerge from the bath. He noted the matching nightgown and robe, both made of silk, and how it fit her body too well, conforming to her shape without really revealing anything. In other circumstances, he would have immediately been on the prowl. As it was, he couldn't help but notice the dagger she held. Small enough to be considered a defensive weapon, but certainly lethal enough if she used it correctly. He had little doubt she knew how to use it, and realized she had probably had it with her since they had first met. It was beginning to become very clear to him how little he actually knew about her.

He closed the computer as she sat to brush her hair out, noting the grace of her movements. He'd dealt with secret agents before, though few had managed to infiltrate as thoroughly as she had, and none had gotten as close to him without being detected. He still didn't know what her mission was, how she had failed in it, or who she was working for. Regardless, the first course of action had to be to get them to relative safety.

He knew she had deceived him, though probably not directly. Her honor seemed to not allow for her to directly lie. Given that, he trusted that she would not try to escape from him before they returned to the US, but that didn't mean he trusted her not to go out in the town and hunt down whoever was after her. That she had taken down three men meant she was far from helpless, but he wasn't ready to concede that she would be able to handle herself on the street. Even if she was, he didn't like the idea of her out in town killing people. Granted, she had killed in self-defense, but that didn't explain how she had gained the weapon in the first place. It was pretty obviously what she had been stabbed with. That confirmed that she was much more than she seemed.

"Thank you for not hiding that from me," he said to her as he rose, setting the computer aside. He was aware that she might still have other weapons hidden on her, though there were ways to verify that. "There's only one bed," he noted, stating the obvious. Still, it was an issue that needed to be faced. "I suggest we share it tonight."

He moved behind her, to where they could see each other in the mirror's reflection. "I'll be blunt: I don't want you sneaking out at night. If you were involved in another assault, it would be difficult to get you out of the country anytime soon. I am also very attracted to you. I guess I am attracted to who you wanted me to think you are, but I'm willing to bet the real you isn't all that different, in the core of your being. I meant what I said earlier, too. You don't need to live the life you are leading. You need to find out who you really are, and a purpose of your own. And I can help you with that."

She was silent for a long moment, her hands going still in her hair as her eyes met his through the mirror. His words shocked her, his concern for her apparent but she wondered if it was just to get her to talk or if it was genuine. She wanted to believe it was genuine, but far too often men said things just to get her attention or to put her at ease. So much had changed in the last two hours that she was not sure what to think now.

"I am not so sure you can," she said softly, lowering her gaze and her head as well, "When one is taught one way of life it is very hard to find and accept another no matter how much they want to."

She shook her head, the artificial light glinting off her tresses. The urge to cry was there but she fought it like she always had. Tears were a sign of weakness, and something she did not want to show to Bruce. He knew now how capable she was and she knew he was suspicious of her. She wanted to lay his fears to rest, but there was no way of doing that completely without confessing to him why she had been sent to him.

"Changing oneself is never an easy thing," Bruce replied. "For better or worse, you have an investment in who you are, and there exists a level of comfort in that. You can never be sure when you set out to become something different that the end will be better than where you started up at. There is no surety that you won't quit and go back to the self you know, even if it is a self you don't want to be. I can't offer you a pair of Ruby Slippers, or even a Yellow Brick Road."

He moved around to face her, sitting on his heels to put them at an equal level. "What I do offer you is my faith: that you can be a better person; that you have the strength to become more than you are; that you are worth the time and effort to make the change. I also offer you my belief in you that you will make the right decisions at the right times, and my pledge to be there to help you however I can. I know it will be a tough journey. I expect you to make mistakes. That's okay."

He paused for a moment, his hand beginning to reach out for her. He stopped short, though, and turned his hand palm up between them. "I accept that I might be totally wrong about you, and I accept that risk. I think you are better than this, better than being someone's puppet on a string. You have honor, something all too rare in this world."

He looked down at his hand, then back up at her. "I can only make the offer. You have to be the one to accept or reject it."


	11. Chapter 11

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 11**

Mamushi stared at Bruce, her mind going over what he had said. In truth she wasn't sure she wanted to change, and she was almost positive that she couldn't change. She had been taught to kill from the age of five, taught what to look for in a mark and to look for the ways to take someone down from the moment she met them. It was the first thought in her mind always, the first instinct when she was in a difficult situation. How did someone turn something like that off? How did you ignore those kinds of thoughts?

"I'm not sure I can," she said softly, turning unsure eyes on him, "Nor that I truly want to..."

She trailed off, not really sure what to say. Wasn't she supposed to be reassuring him that she was harmless? It didn't seem to be going that way, but then nothing ever seemed to go the way she wanted it to.

A sad smile crossed Bruce's face. "Okay. Mamushi. I have to accept honesty." He retracted his hand from her. "The offer still lies on the table, but we don't have to resolve it tonight."

He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze taking in much of her body, but mostly staying on her eyes. "I'm not sure what to think about you. You came into my employ under someone else's instruction. You tell me that, now, the only job important to you is the job you do for me, and that both my company and me are not in any danger from you. You are much more than you seemed to be earlier, though there is no crime in that. I can't pinpoint a time you have ever lied to me, nor brought harm to me.

"Still, you find yourself under surveillance and attack by an entity that has influence on both sides of the Atlantic, at least, and can infiltrate airport security and premier hotel security both with little notice and apparent ease. You admit giving me information about them would place me in their sights, though I have to wonder if I am not already in their sights."

He paused, and took a deep breath. "You killed a man today, albeit in self-defense. Unfortunately, I happen to know something about people dying, and at least feeling responsible for it. You are not acting like this is the first time you have killed someone. I have to assume you have killed before."

Bruce's eyes went to her wound, and then back to her eyes. "I would like to have seen more of your fighting technique; you not only disarmed a man apparently after being wounded, but you used the weapon against him rather efficiently. I wonder if you would show me these techniques at some time, but that is a question for another time. I have a different question for you right now: were you sent to bring me harm or to protect me?"

Fear shot through her, slipping into her eyes for a moment before she was able to take control and force it down again. Her face was calm, even serene as she looked at him. Her eyes searched his for a moment before she lowered her gaze to stare at a nondescript spot on the floor.

"You promised no more questions," her voice was no more than a whisper, but it was void of all emotion.

It was the only way she could truly avoid the question at the moment. The longer she could put him off the more chance she had of getting the problem solved herself. She knew she could not put him off forever, but she hoped that she could at least gain herself some time.

"You're right, I did," Bruce replied, looking chagrined. "My most sincere apologies. Perhaps the interrogation rattled me more than I thought it had." He looked away, as though trying to think of a way to make his word good to her again. He had caught the fear in her eyes, however, and suspected the answer. He did admonish himself, however; he had forgotten his vow. Still, his slip had given him more information.

He stood before her, and offered his hand. "It seems I will have difficulties restraining my curiosity if we continue to talk. I suggest, in the interest of keeping our truce, that we find something else to occupy our time. I, for one, would have difficulty falling asleep. I have, however, learned a massage technique while visiting Nepal on one of my... excursions. It is very effective at easing the tensions in one's body, which helps to ease those in one's mind. If you would be willing to accept it as recompense for my aberrant behavior, it would ease my conscience greatly."

Mamushi looked up at him, a bit suspicious of his offer. She had been taught to never put herself in a compromising situation, never to allow ones self to be put at a tactical disadvantage. And yet, when she had taken the job with Bruce she had accepted the fact that to get close to him she may have to do just that. However, at the time she had made that decision she had not known that he would know as much about her as he did now. Her position with him was compromised now, but even so she should continue to act as she would had he not seen what he had earlier. But she was confused about whether she truly could or not.

Without thinking she reached up and slipped her hand into his as she stood, preparing to decline his offer. The moment that his warm flesh touched hers, however, that familiar tingle surged through her. It warmed her skin, easing her mind and reassuring her that he would not harm her. She slowly let out a breath and gave a nod, still avoiding his gaze. She did not trust her eyes right now, nor did she trust herself to look into his. It was quite possible that if she did she would loose herself and confess everything. That was unacceptable, and she would not allow it to happen.

"Thank you," Bruce whispered, barely more than mouthing the words. He recognized the confusion in her, but could only guess at what exactly went through her mind, and what was and was not a ruse. He had been sure she would decline the offer. Accepting was a sign of trust he didn't know that she was capable of, but she'd hesitated when she'd touched his hand. He didn't understand what had happened, and that disturbed him, though not enough for him to withdraw the offer.

Still holding her hand, he moved around behind her, and only then released her hand from his grasp. Gently, he eased the robe from her shoulders and lowered it to allow it to drop from her arms. He set the robe aside and stepped close behind her, their bodies making light contact through their clothing. "To be best applied, I need access to your skin," he breathed in her ear.

Everything about the way she stood, the way she reacted to him, her form traced by the nightgown, and the scent of her body excited him. Try as he may, he could not completely keep that excitement from his body. Bending down, he kissed her shoulder gently before stepping away and allowing her the room to disrobe.

She did not fight him as he removed the robe, glancing back slightly when he set it aside. The warmth of his skin seeped into her when he moved closer, spreading across her skin and making her want to lean into him. She restrained herself though, allowing him to move closer without hindrance or encouragement. He didn't touch her as he whispered in her ear, but the feeling of his breath across her skin excited her. However, his breath on her skin was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips. She drew in a quick breath when his lips pressed against her shoulder, her bottom lip being drawn between her teeth almost instinctively.

She stood very still for several moments, afraid to move. After a bit she reached up with her right hand and slid the strap off her left shoulder, then did the same for the right. Hesitation had won out over reckless abandon, and she stood there for several seconds with her arms still crossed over her chest holding the nightgown in place. She was not usually this shy about her body or situations such as this. It was part of her job, something she did to get the job done. However, she had never actually wanted any of her marks, at least not the way she wanted Bruce.

She took one final breath and removed her arms, allowing the black silk nightgown to slide effortlessly from her body to fall in a heap on the floor at her feet. She made no effort to step out of it, nor to move it from atop her feet. She had done good just to let it go. She was not about to show Bruce how much effort that had taken.

Bruce watched her, entranced by her movements. He was very aware of her pauses, the seemingly deliberate teasing she did, and though he couldn't discount the possibility that she was shy, it was not a characteristic that fit her. He found a tension growing throughout his body as she slowly removed the straps from her shoulders, then waited before letting the gown drop. A part of himself had recorded the time in seconds that each act had taken, but for the moment that part was forgotten.

She stood before him, unmoving, apparently awaiting his direction. Her skin was perfect, flawless, and that made Bruce pause for a second. He shook his head, unsure of what he'd expected. He bore countless scars, though with a bit of concentration he could remember what each was from and when he had gotten it. He had expected some kind of a history to be born on her body as well. That it wasn't there perplexed him. He was forced to reconsider her apparent experience.

He closed his eyes and pushed those thoughts from his mind. He approached her, his right hand flowing into hers, his left resting gently at the small of her back. He hadn't really expected her to be naked under the gown, but accepted it without comment. Still, his hands on her bare flesh, knowing that she was bare before him inflamed his desire for her.

Steeling himself, he gently led her toward the bed. "This isn't the ideal surface for this, but it will suffice." His voice was low; it almost resonated in his chest as he spoke. His touch was gentle, and suggested a direction to her but stopped short of pushing her. "Please, lay down on your stomach. Your legs should be straight and not crossed, and it is paramount that you try to get comfortable."

Her grip on his hand was gentle, echoing his own gentleness. Heat swept across her skin where his hand touched the small of her back, causing her to close her eyes for a moment as she willed herself to ignore the feeling. She could have done what she always did when faced with a sexual situation with a mark, but somehow she did not truly want to. Through training she had learned to disjoint herself, removing her mind from the physical feelings of her body in an attempt to avoid the feelings that came with the touch of a man. Her body responded as it should to the encounter but her mind remained focused and unaffected by the experience. It also allowed her to hide the feeling of nausea that usually came with a man's touch, keeping up the ruse.

The difference here was that Bruce's touch didn't make her sick, it didn't make her feel as if she wanted to run away. His touch made her tingle, made her warm, made her want to move closer to him. She had never experienced sex with a man who made her feel like that. Kevin's touch had done nothing. It had not excited her but had not repulsed her either. Sparks had been the same, a kind of neutral touch. Bruce was different, electric.

With a slight nod she moved forward and settled onto the bed on her stomach. She took a few moments to move her hair out from under her head before slipping her arms beneath a pillow and resting her head atop it. This was as comfortable as she could get at the moment, especially with her body tingling with anticipation.


	12. Chapter 12

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 12**

As Mamushi settled herself onto the mattress, Bruce removed his robe and set it aside. The scars on his body were clearly evident, something he chalked up to too many adventures in his off time, but refused to elaborate on. A closer look would reveal many were from knives or guns, but some where not. Some had been bones breaking through the flesh, others from the claws and teeth of great cats, and yet others by even more exotic means. He ignored them all as he moved onto the mattress, settling himself on his knees beside her.

He began by massaging her feet, each toe getting special attention before he moved to the ball of her foot, then the arch and the heel. Reaching around, he concentrated on the front of her foot up to her ankle and her Achilles tendon. He repeated the same for the other foot, all the while chanting words for peace and relaxation in the Chulung language. Slowly he moved up one calf and then the other, taking as much time as necessary to rid her of any knots or tensions before moving on. He gave a deep massage to her knees, warming his hands by rubbing them together to provide heat for her.

Mamushi lay completely still on the mattress, her body relaxed under his touch. His words combined with the touch brought her a sense of peace she had never experienced before. She knew tranquility and inner calm, but she had never experienced true peace. Her senses were always alert, always waiting for the moment that they would be needed. This always left her mind active, always thinking, always plotting. Peace was a foreign concept to her, and yet as she lay there under Bruce's apparently talented hands she found it for the first time.

A gentle sigh slipped past her lips and her eyes fluttered closed. She faced the door, something she had done out of pure habit. At the moment though, the thought of someone coming in to harm her was far away. Her mind was focused on what her body was feeling. His touch, his words, the way that he warmed her skin with his hands, the way that he eased her muscles with gentle movements. At that moment her guard was completely down, her body completely vulnerable to him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was surprised at how easy it was for her to give up that kind of control, but on the surface she didn't care. What mattered was how she felt right now.

Bruce smiled at her sigh, and noted how she seemed to melt into the mattress. It had been obvious to him that she did not easily relax, though the trait was hardly unheard of. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she still posed a possible threat to him, but he was confident his reflexes would be able to handle anything as long as he didn't put himself in an overtly vulnerable position.

Again, he noted the perfection of her skin, but now of her muscle tone as well. He was certain that she had trained for speed, endurance, and flexibility from what he saw, and that such training would also lead to greater than usual strength. It seemed, though, that she had also not let herself get thin enough to lose any of her natural beauty. She had enough curves to never be mistaken as anything but female, though they did little to conceal her other attributes.

He continued work up her thighs, his progress slowing as he reached deeper muscles. His chant continued in a low, soft voice as his hands worked her flesh, searching out every bit of tightness she held and laying it to rest before moving on. While he paid attention to the work, he found his eyes taking in her form more and more, and lingering on her thin, sculpted rear. He found he was glad to be sitting and covered; while he couldn't say he hadn't wanted the activity to be sensual and possibly lead to a more intimate encounter, he neither wanted to push the issue nor advertise his own feelings. He had offered himself to her before. While he couldn't be sure why she had said no, she had refused him. He would respect that until and unless it changed.

Her body felt heavy, like she could not move her own weight, but it was a wonderful heavy. It felt warm, safe, and pleasant. She felt his hands moving across her skin, felt them needing her muscles and chasing away the tension that had always been there. Each time he finished with one spot she sank a little deeper into the bed, her body becoming a little heavier. That was probably why the pain was such a shock. He was working on that spot between her shoulder blades when he hit a spot that shot pain through her entire body. Almost instantly her senses came back and she jerked up on her elbows, turning her head to look at him as if he had done it on purpose. She knew he had not, but the interruption to her tranquil mindset had upset her.

Bruce's hands stopped, though the chanting continued. He lifted his hands from her and began rubbing them together to warm them, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. As the chanting continued he looked in her eyes and waited for her to lie back down.

As her eyes studied him, she saw his bare flesh for the first time. She had expected perfect, well toned, bronzed skin. What she found was lighter skin that was marred by countless scars, and he was more than toned...he was almost buff. Every muscle was defined, straining slightly against the flesh but not in an extreme way. His suits hid his physique quite well, so much so that she had no idea that his body was that well honed. This was not the body of a millionaire.

Her eyes wandered over the scars, the myriad of different shapes and sizes. Some were old, some newer, and the devices that seemed to cause them were varied. She recognized the knife and bullet wounds, but the more ragged ones were a mystery to her.

Her face changed from one of mild annoyance to one of curiosity as she pushed up further, pulling her legs beneath her as she sat up in front of him. Her eyes met his for a moment before she reached out and gently ran her fingers across one of the more ragged and uneven scars. She let out a soft sound as the energy shot through her fingers, her eyes focusing on where her fingers were. The scar started just below his right pectoral muscle, cutting a jagged swath across the skin and ending next to his nipple. It was thick and dark, unlike many of the other ones which were lighter.

Without thinking she rose up on her knees, moving closer to him as her eyes remained focused on the scar. She had barely come to her knees when her head dipped and her lips pressed gently against his flesh, right in the center of the scar.

Bruce had gotten many questions over his scars; he had as many pat answers ranging from rock-climbing accidents to animals' attacks in Africa and other locals and numerous other activities only his alleged lifestyle could possibly account for. He waited for the questions as he watched her pull her legs under herself. The ready answers played in his mind, none of them exactly a lie though most far short of the truth, as their eyes met.

Surprised by her silence, he watched her hand extend out, anticipating her gentle touch. She made a noise that seemed surprised and somehow pleasant, at least to his ears, when her fingers made contact with the scar from a puma. He had not been able to get adequate first aid and it had healed worse than most, though it did not greatly bother him.

He closed his eyes at her touch, though the paranoid, frightened little boy inside him reeled at the obvious danger in doing so. He ignored that voice, forcing its silence as he enjoyed her touch. His eyes came back open when she had gained her knees; his gaze took in her full breasts, noting her stiffened nipples. He noted her waist and the swell of her hips before she bent into him, her attention seeming to be focused entirely on the one ragged scar.

It was his turn to make a noise; a moan of bliss escaped from him as her lips touched his skin, soothing any lingering hurt that may have been left in the remnants of the wound. Lightly, his fingers ran in her hair. He gently encouraged her to keep her lips on his flesh as his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing grew deeper. His left hand traced down her arm to her waist as his right moved behind her neck, encouraging her more.

The hand that had initially traced the scar flattened against his skin, her eyes closing as his hand cupped her neck. The other hand that traced down her arm to her hip left warmth in it's stead, making the rest of her seem cold in comparison. She pressed herself closer to him as her lips found yet another scar. Her other hand led the way, tracing scar after scar as she moved across his chest, kissing each one in her path. When she had reached the other side she pulled back, both hands now flattened against his chest as she turned dark eyes on him. She now realized that Bruce Wayne was more than just a millionaire, he was a warrior. The marks on his body were evidence of that. Each one had a story, an energy to them that no normal scar had. She could almost taste it.

Bruce rose to his knees as Mamushi turned her gaze on him. There was something in her eyes that should have alerted him that she had detected something, but he just didn't care enough to pay that close of attention. That her eyes met his was enough and anything else was forgotten, though dutifully recorded in his amazing memory. His hand at her waist moved to the small of her back as he pulled her to meet him, bringing the flesh of their bodies together above his pajama pants.

His hardness was now apparent, pressed against her through the silken fabric; he had decided he wanted her to know he desired her, and actions had long been his preference over words. He bent down toward her, his hand at her back forcing her to arch at his movement as his lips sought hers. He noted the cleanness of her aroma, and a small, amused part of his suspected that she knew that was how he preferred his women to smell.

Her breath hitched slightly as his lips met hers, her heart skipping a beat as that electricity shot through her. She could feel his need and her body responded in kind as she not only allowed the kiss but fed into it. Her lips parted for him, her hands moving up to his shoulders as her body arched towards him. Her mind screamed that she should stop, that this was all a mistake, but she ignored it. She had wanted this last night, but had refused both herself and him. She kept telling herself that it was because of 'them', but the truth was there even now, hovering at the back of her mind. Fear. It still gripped her, even now. She knew what she had to give up in order to be with Bruce, and the very thought scared her to death. The fact that she had done what was required no less than five minutes ago did not seem to matter to that part of her right now. The fear was still there, even though she tried to push it aside.

She had been successful in keeping it hidden from her demeanor and her body, but to do so she had to disconnect from her movements and that was the last thing she wanted to do. More than anything right now she wanted to feel him, to know what his kiss tasted like, to know what it felt like to be cradled in his arms...but she couldn't allow him to sense her fear. If he did it would ruin everything, it would make him suspicious and may make him stop. She didn't want him to stop, but she didn't want to go through this experience on auto pilot either.

Bruce sensed more than felt tension in Mamushi, but not only did she make no movement to stop him, she moved into him, reached for him, helped him to make it more than he could on his own. His arm around her waist pulled her tighter to him, the strength in his arm pinning her against his body. He explored her mouth, lingering on the sweetness of her lips and the electrifying taste of her on his tongue.

He had experienced sex with many women, usually enjoying the experience for what it was and little more. There was, for his moment at least, a very strong attraction for Mamushi that he found nearly impossible to ignore. He broke the kiss with a sigh, giving in to his passions, and nuzzled his way to her throat. Mindful to leave no lasting marks on her, he lightly bit her flesh, pinching her perfect skin hard enough to leave light impressions of his teeth. Releasing his bite, he soothed the area with soft, gentle kisses before moving along to another spot a few inches away.

One hand supporting and pressing her against him, the other cupped her rear, tracing her shape lightly in his hand before kneading her deeply and pulling her more fully against him. He could not remember the last time he had wanted a woman this much; all the other considerations before him vanished in the moment as he sought to please her, and in doing so, himself as well.

The pain of the bite brought her attention back to her physical body, just enough that she felt the shock that ran through her as he kissed the spot he had bitten. She gasped slightly, her hand gripping his shoulder gently. Her head had leaned to the side, giving him better access to her neck as her other hand moved up into his hair. Her fingers toyed with the strands, her mind still fighting with itself to free it from the fear.

Her eyes closed and her breathing quickened in response not only to his touch but also to her struggle within herself. The fear was winning, using past experiences to show her that it was foolish for her to give up control, to give up her life for something as simple as one night of pleasure. Still she fought it, reasoning that the longer she fought it the deeper she would be and the more unable to stop her body would be, but it wasn't good enough. She wanted to feel it all, and the fight with her own conciseness was taking her away from that, robbing her of that pleasure.

All at once her body stiffened in Bruce's embrace, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she fought against her own fear, her own mind. She had made a decision and she was going to stick with it, going to see it through, no matter what it cost her. If Bruce killed her then she would at least know the true pleasure of physical affection before she went. If he did not, then she would live to deal with Oban and the others. At this point in time though she saw no real reason not to give in to this desire, save for the fear. And yet if she looked at it as she should, there was nothing truly to live for at the moment aside from keeping Bruce alive. She trusted him in a way she had not ever trusted any man, and at the moment she wanted him so badly that she was willing to place her own life in his hands...to strip away her facade and be no more than a woman for him.

"Kami ha watashi o tasukeru." she whispered as she finally pushed the fear aside and her body once again relaxed against Bruce's.

Her mind reconnected with her body, and a surprised gasp slipped from her lips as the true state of her arousal hit her. It was something she had never felt before, something she had never dreamed possible. Her entire body throbbed, her center aching and her skin tingling where Bruce touched her. She could even still taste him on her tongue. It was a foreign feeling to her, but even as she sought to define it she craved more.

Bruce paused for the briefest period of time when Mamushi tensed, though she did not seem to fight him at all. He resumed almost immediately, opening his mouth wider to take in more skin at once. He bit slightly harder, along the top of her trapezius, though not nearly enough to break her skin. He held the bite for longer, forcing himself to not suck on her skin; though she had not warned him at all, he felt leaving marks on her would be ill-advised. He then spent more time kissing the 'wounded' area to soothe away the pain. In his imagination, he held thoughts of feeding on her as a vampire might, though he could not imagine any vampire enjoying their ghoulish acts as much as he was enjoying Mamushi.

He pulled her closer, trying to force her to relax for him. She made a brief plea for God to help her before finally relaxing in his arms again. Had his mouth not been so busy at that moment, he would have smiled over the oddity of the plea. Still, somehow, it made sense to him.

He lowered her to the mattress, his mouth moving to the hollow of her neck before finding her collarbone and then continuing down her body as his lips and teeth explored her richness.

****


	13. Chapter 13

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 13**

Mamushi stood in her bedroom and stared at the suitcase that sat on the bed before her. She was not exactly sure what all she should bring. She had added several changes of clothes, both work and play, as well as 2 pairs of shoes, socks, underwear and bras and her bathroom necessities. Still, she felt like she should add more. And yet, she couldn't think of anything that she wanted to add. In truth she didn't want to pack at all. She wanted to just crawl into bed and sleep, but Bruce wouldn't let her. Somehow on the plane ride back from Germany he had convinced her that she would be much safer at his place. Why she had agreed was beyond her, but she had. She was probably just in shock that he had not started asking questions as soon as they got on the plane. They were coming though, she knew they were. He was not done interrogating her, and she was sure that he would continue eventually. Question was, could she avoid it long enough to get done what needed done?

Heaving a sigh she turned and walked back into the closet. She took out a long, thin black case and sat it on her bed. Slowly, she opened it and checked to make sure that her three most prized possessions were still inside. Satisfied she nodded and closed the lid, locking it in place once again. They were heirlooms, not to mention incriminating evidence. They were her tools, and each had taken at least one life. It was probably a bad idea to take them with her, but she could not bear to leave them here. Each one was given to her by a different person, and they were probably the only thing here that meant anything sentimental to her.

Checking her bags again she nodded that all was ready and closed them up, then went into the living room to tell Bruce that she was ready to go.

Bruce casually inspected Mamushi's apartment as she had gathered her things. He was pleased that she had agreed to stay at Wayne Manor, and felt perhaps his waiting to ask more questions of her had helped her make that decision. Had she protested too strongly, he surely would have been expected to ask why, which would have led to other things.

Bruce was very impressed with her apartment. It was apparent that she was not afraid to spend money, nor to engage in the contracts necessary to allow such remodeling to occur in a rental unit. The walls were paneled in a rich mahogany and the place was well appointed in black. Idly, Bruce wondered if she had him in mind when she designed her furnishings.

Below the television was a case holding a knife collection. Bruce looked closer at it but saw no marks on the blades, either from use or from sharpening. He concluded that the weapons in the case had not likely been used, or at least not extensively. He hadn't really expected her to have weapons she used out in plain view, though he would've kicked himself and more had he overlooked it.

The apartment had a mild Oriental flavor to it, though even with the art on the walls it wasn't over done. The fountain caught his attention. It was small and almost seemed out of place, but the gentle noise that came from the water flowing down it did have a meditative quality. Everything about the place confirmed that she was every bit as capable as she had seemed, but also that she held her private life extremely private. Fitting, if one was masquerading, though hardly unusual.

He moved to the deck, opening the door to step out. He hadn't realized what a stunning view she'd had. The bamboo furniture was functional and nice, though hardly opulent, but the view more than made up for that. Studying the view more closely, the top floors of the main Wayne Industries building were visible, with both his and Lucious's offices in view. It would take a high-power lens to decipher anything in the offices, and the windows were tinted, but it wasn't impossible. Still, she could see the offices from inside. He shrugged, letting the matter drop.

He went back into the apartment, catching a glimpse of her in her bedroom. He found it odd that he could trust her word explicitly, while her actions he had to be constantly aware of, as well as any hidden implications or omissions in her words. If the situation weren't serious, he would find it pleasantly challenging.

He moved to the futon, taking a look at the magazines. The "American Journal of Archaeology" and "Archaeology Magazine" displayed one definite interest, with a wider interest in cultural and geographical being supported with "The Smithsonian" and "National Geographic." A quick perusal of these confirmed she had lingered over a number of major articles in the magazine. If the interest wasn't genuine, it was well feigned.

Current copies of the "Paladin Press" and "Turtle Press" were a little more alarming, but quite expected. "Knight's Edge" seemed a bit more fanciful, but Bruce knew better. While few weapon makers actually mass-produced combat ready European historic replica swords, this magazine not only brought them together, but include Asian as well, and many forms and styles of functional armor as well. He had run across similar products before; there just was no safe place to land an empty-hand blow on a sugarloaf helm.

The car magazines offered a rather interesting glimpse into what seemed to be a conservative personality. Perhaps he should have offered to let her drive the Viper. The gaming magazines seemed to him out of place as well, and he leafed through both of these rather intently, making sure there were no hidden messages in them.

Looking up at the TV on the wall, he realized there were no clocks anywhere in the apartment that he had seen, apart from on the stove. He knew she didn't normally wear a watch, of much jewelry at all, though she always had her Blackberry with her. Though probably its least sought after function, it did keep time.

He stood as she exited the room, offering her a professional smile, though there was a hint of genuineness in it as well. As Batman, he broke bones, forced confessions, and even occasionally killed in the course of his job, rarely looking at why someone preyed on other people, only that they had. This one, Mamushi, was lucky in at least one respect. He had seen her as a person before he'd seen her as a threat, and he was impressed. Though it was far from his modus operandi, this one he was going to save, if at all possible.

"You're driving," he announced, tossing her the keys to the Viper. His smile grew a little more genuine.

Mamushi caught the keys easily, staring at them for a moment before looking up at Bruce with a bit of confusion on her face. The smile on his assured her that it was not a prank, so she simply shrugged and returned to the bedroom to retrieve her bags. She slung the long black case over her shoulder and picked up the suitcase. As she came to the door of the room Bruce reached out for both bags. She gracefully handed over the suitcase, but shook her head at his offer for the black case. That one she would carry herself. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when he consented, but managed to hold it in.

She glanced at the apartment one last time before turning and making her way out the front door into the hall. Bruce followed close behind, closing the door and then stepping out of the way so that Mamushi could lock it. With that done she moved down the hall towards the elevator.

Several moments later she slid into the driver's seat of the Viper, the door closing firmly beside her as she placed both hands on the wheel. Without thinking she reached down and moved the seat forward to a comfortable position, making sure that she could see out of the mirrors as well. Bruce was much taller than her so the rear view and the driver's side mirror both had to be moved down. She ignored the passenger side mirror, choosing instead to place the keys in the ignition. Her lower lip went between her teeth as she depressed the clutch and turned the key, her eyes closing as the engine roared to life. She took a few moments, allowing the sound of the engine to wash over her, envelope her, before she reached over and released the brake. A pleased smile slipped across her lips as she put the car in first gear and started down the street, anxious to get on the freeway.

Bruce settled into the seat next to Mamushi, taking a second to orient himself to being in the passenger's seat. It amazed him that, no matter how many physical disciplines he mastered, working the seatbelt from the wrong side always felt awkward, and took twice as long.

Watching Mamushi orient herself to the car, he gave himself the slightest of nods, happy he had read her correctly. His slight annoyance that she had not adjusted the passenger side mirror passed without remark. He wasn't here to teach her, but to learn from her. The near rapture on her face when she started the car made him smile, regardless of how detached he was trying to be.

Flawlessly, she shifted the car into gear and slid out into traffic. It was not a bold or daring move, though this was her first time behind the wheel of this particular car. Those who knew Bruce knew he could never leave well enough alone, although the modifications to the Viper were slight. He'd had the tires made for the car, giving it a bit more traction, and the brake pads and rotors were fractionally larger, giving it a little surer breaking, and a little more area over which to dissipate the heat from hard breaking. Not major modifications, but they could make a difference.

Settling back for the drive, he felt he had made the right choice, both in letting her drive and in stalling the questions. The latter seemed to keep her a little on edge, not sure of when he would start; she seemed to be going out of her way to stay busy as well, not allowing an opening for him to start.

His phone rang, and he answered it, having a coded conversation with Alfred. He was to leave security at the manner lax tonight anywhere Mamushi went, tightening back up behind her and keeping an eye on her movements until she left, which Bruce was sure she would. With an exasperated tone, he ended the phone call and turned to Mamushi.

"There are members of the Board that wish to personally see that I am in fact all right after last night's events. They've arranged the Berghoff to be open all night for me, and I really have to make a showing. At the very least, not attending would raise suspicions, and neither of us need more of those at the moment.

"I had planned on us having a discussion tonight, but that will have to wait until tomorrow."

He paused a moment, studying her flawless face, watching her eyes dart from place to place, keeping her eyes on the road, alert. He wondered how much she had given up of herself in taking on her current role.

"Wayne Manor is, of course, at your disposal and I am sure Alfred will do everything he can to assist you. If you but give me your word that nothing you do will bring harm or heighten the danger to you, Alfred, myself, or the estate, I would have every confidence in putting the assets of Wayne Manor at your disposal. I trust you will be able to keep yourself amused."

Mamushi almost breathed a sigh of relief when he mentioned the questions waiting until tomorrow, but she managed to hold it in. Instead she focused on the road, schooling her expression so that nothing showed. Him having other things to do tonight was perfect, it gave her the time to begin to take care of the problems at hand. She already knew what had to be done first. It was all planned out, every step and every event carefully planned and decided in order to have not only the desired effect but also to give herself the best opportunity possible to 'fix' things.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," she said as she pulled the Viper onto the freeway, her speed climbing as she merged with the traffic and then moved over into the fast lane, "It's a big house, I'm sure I can find something to occupy my time."

She hit an open patch of road, no cars ahead of her, and her speed shot up to 80. Still, she seemed calm and collected behind the wheel, all save for the slight smile that slipped across her lips. She navigated the turns of the road and even maneuvered around the traffic with ease and control. Her eyes never left the road, shifting the car by feel alone and allowing the vehicle to go as fast as it wanted to. It only took a few moments for her to realize that she liked this car...a lot. It made her heart race, made her feel good. Those were two things that she rarely felt.

"I promise to behave myself," she said with a slight nod and a sideway grin.


	14. Chapter 14

**ASHES OF THE RAVEN**

**By**

**Egypt and Wallaby**

**Chapter 14**

Bruce chose his attire for the evening, his mind going back to the ride home. Mamushi had always seemed competent and capable, but when she drove the Viper, she was definitely something more. She seemed happier than he could remember ever seeing her before, almost child-like in her happiness, though definitely not immature. He was glad he had let her drive. She was good, too, though that hardly surprised him. He wondered what she wasn't good at.

He examined himself in the mirror. He looked good, he had to admit, though he wondered how black had gotten to be so fashionable. He knew the answer, though he didn't want to admit it to himself. Still, he decided to defy tradition. He wore the black tie and tails, to be sure, but a light pink shirt replaced his white one.

He would have to remember to thank Alfred and Lucious for setting this up for him, especially when he would only be making a token appearance. No doubt the rank and file members of the Board would appreciate an all expense paid night at one of Gotham's poshest clubs, and he could certainly beg off, claiming himself tired from the ordeal. If they only knew what counted as an ordeal for their beloved major share-holder.

With a nod to Alfred, he left for the night. He drove the 1955 Lincoln Futura tonight, painted in gloss black with red trim. Somehow, it just seemed appropriate. Even so, he couldn't quite fathom Mamushi's last words. He knew she wouldn't lie to him outright, so it left him to wonder exactly what she considered behaving. For a moment, he thought perhaps his plans for tonight would come to naught.

Mamushi waited until she heard Bruce leave, watching his car pull down the drive from the window of the lavishly decorated bedroom she had been given to stay in while she was at the manor. She had spent the last hour getting ready to go out. She took a hot shower, making sure to use the herbal salt scrub she always did before going out. She had then done her hair in a tight bun atop her head and dressed all in black silk. A short black silk skirt, a tight fitting black silk blouse and black silk stockings. Black thigh high boots, black leather gloves and a black silk trench coat completed the look. The dagger that she always used had been retrieved from the bags she had surrendered at the airport and had been hidden in it's usual place. She was ready to go. All she had to do now was get past the security system.

That proved to be much easier than Mamushi thought it would. The system was simple enough that she eventually found herself in the Garage. The array of cars that filled the huge 'warehouse' was astounding. There were so many cars there that she had no idea which one to choose. Of course, she needed one that was common and would not garner attention. Problem was that everything she saw was custom, concept, totally out there or completely expensive. She knew she had to choose quickly, but there was not really anything here that she could use. She was beginning to think that she would have to make a trip back to her house to get her car when she spotted an 85 Riviera. It was not a great car, or even a customized one. It was just a simple car, as simple as Bruce seemed to get. She wondered for a moment why he had it but pushed the thought aside. She was running out of time.

Once she found the keys she slipped into the driver's seat and pulled the car out of the garage, headed for town and an appointment with an old 'friend'.

****

It didn't take Bruce long to make his obligatory appearance. He was obviously back in the US, safe and sound, which had really been all anyone was concerned with, beyond where his shares would go. Nobody knew the details of his will, and it was something that he was not willing to even have discussed in general, beyond the fact that one existed. He made the expected rounds, then tried to bow quietly out. It didn't work, of course. It never did.

Lucious was there, however. He fended the masses away, and when only the few sharks were left, confided in them that Bruce had already secured company to ease his nerves after the ordeal. Looking appropriately bemused, Bruce was allowed to leave in peace, quietly making his way back to Wayne Manor.

Alfred assured him that their guest had already left, and that Alfred had won the bet. She'd taken the Buick, not the Harley. Bruce shrugged the comment away. Obviously, Mamushi did not know what the Harley was capable of. Still, the Buick had been a good guess. He would have to find another car, though, if that one drew any attention.

Leaving the Lincoln for Alfred to take care of, Bruce went straight to the bat cave. It only took him minutes to prepare himself and lock in to the Buick's tracking signal. He began following her, making sure to note if she stopped by her apartment, and noting anywhere else she might stop. If she changed vehicles, he wanted to know about it.

Staying about a mile behind her, he continued tracking her until she did stop, then found a place to keep his vehicle out of sight. Moving across the rooftops, it wasn't long before he caught up to where she had been. Now, there was only the task of finding her again, hopefully before she got into too much trouble.

****

Sato Hikoshi stepped through the door of his apartment, closing the door behind him and heaving a sigh of relief. Oban had bailed him out of jail in Munich and had promised that everything would be taken care of. He had been sent on the next plain back to the States with strict instructions to speak to Oban first thing in the morning, but for now all he wanted to do was sleep. His jaw still hurt from where Mamushi had punched him, and Kota was still in the hospital in Munich with a broken leg and jaw. He should have known it was a bad idea to go after Viper, but he did what Oban wanted.

He dropped his bag by the door and stepped further into the apartment, headed for the refrigerator and a cold beer. He needed it after the week he'd had.

"Have you seen Oban yet?"

The voice made him jump and spin around to face a dark corner of the living room. He could barely see her, just barely making out her shape in the shadows.

"No," he said with a frown, "Why?"

She stepped into the light and shook her head, her eyes dark and cold as she studied him.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know that Oban was right in putting you on the list." he replied, his features hardening as he watched her advance on him.

She nodded, the bun at the back of her head bobbing slightly as she did. She was dressed all in black silk, from neck to foot, her skin seeming almost ghostly against its darkness. And yet, it seemed to fit her. The fineness of the fabric and the almost velvet quality that it had. It made her look elegant, which was not necessarily a good thing for Sato. He had heard the stories, heard about how she killed, how she dressed when she did. That told him one thing right now...he was never going to get that beer.

"I can't let you talk to Oban," she said with a sigh as she moved closer, backing him into the fridge so that he had nowhere left to go, "And as much as I hate to send this message so soon...I'm afraid it has to be done."

He saw the flash of light on steel and felt the sting in his throat but he never saw her move. She was fast enough that by the time that the blade finished its trek across his throat she was out of the way of the arterial spray, standing next to him as he sank to the floor. She watched him fall, hands clutching at his neck as he strove to staunch the flow. She made no move to help him and no effort to end his suffering. He had tried to kill her, and he knew too much about her and Bruce to allow him to live. Yes, it was cold but it was how she was and what she did.

She watched until his body went limp, then gracefully and carefully left the apartment the way she had come, leaving the body on the floor as a message for Oban.

****

Batman followed Mamushi's trail from the Buick, having taken the ignition coil from the car. Following her hadn't been easy, but her footprints in the grass left a heat signature he could follow when he cranked his IR goggles up enough. He circled the apartment twice, and again needed to use special optics to find her inside. She was good. Better than he expected.

Checking the mailing address, he noted this was likely one of the people that had attacked her in Munich. Again he was surprised. Getting Sato out of jail and back to the US had been something of a feat. Getting him back to the US without Bruce finding out earlier was in an all-together different class. Obviously, they weren't supposed to know he was back, and yet here Mamushi was.

Batman hid on a nearby rooftop and waited. Finally, her would-be assassin came home, and Batman crept closer, taking position on the roof after he'd made sure Sato's tail had gone. Waiting for a ruckus of some kind, the Dark Knight was again surprised to see Mamushi leaving the building. This was not at all what he expected. Going in through the kitchen window, Batman immediately saw Sato was dead, killed by a drawing cut across the throat. Shaking his head, he moved to follow Mamushi.

Using a line and the natural shadows of the buildings, Batman smiled to himself as he saw Mamushi opening the hood to the car. Landing lightly on the ground near her, some ten feet distant, he prepared himself for whatever she might do. So far, she had been better at everything than he had counted on. This was not a good time to underestimate her.

"Car trouble?" he asked.


End file.
